


The Dark Wizard

by Sulfur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulfur/pseuds/Sulfur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gollum isn't the only person Aragorn finds in the Dead Marshes. Severus Snape is given a second chance in Middle Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dead Marshes

**Part 1: The Dark Wizard**

The first thing Severus noticed was the acrid stench. The second thing he noticed were overlarge, pale eyes that looked down on him curiously. He jerked upright, and the pale creature flinched back as if struck. It began to mutter in a high voice. It took several seconds before Severus could make out its speech.

"What is it?" it hissed, eyes wide with apprehension. "Why is it here?"

Severus stood up and absently touched his very much intact throat. He was soaking wet, and the air was far colder than it had been in the Shrieking Shack. It was nighttime, but the entire area was lit up by pale, eerie lights and ghostly candles. He was in a great, endless marshland. There were no trees, and even the small, stunted grasses that did grow seemed to do so only with great effort. He could feel a subtle pull on his mind, and he quickly shut it out. It was as if there was some curse laid upon the entire area.

The creature answered Severus' unasked question. "Alive, it was. We saw it - pulled it out, yes."

"Who are you?" Severus asked.

"It speaks!" it cried, jumping away in fright. "It speaks to us, precious. What is it?"

Severus looked down. He was still wearing the same robes he had been wearing when the Dark Lord had ended his life, but there was no blood. His wand was tucked in its sleeve, and he pulled it out.

"You first," he said coolly. The creature frowned at him, and it crawled toward him in a manner that was almost threatening. Severus gripped his wand tighter.

"Us? No, it will speak. Won't it, precious?"

Severus sneered at the wretched creature. Its voice and mannerisms reminded him of Pettigrew, and Severus felt a familiar hatred rising. "Do not make me ask you again."

The creature cringed back again at the tone of command, and forced itself to its knees. "We is - we is - we is Smeagol! That is our name, precious. Smeagol!" It was almost as if it had forgotten its name.

"What is precious?" Severus asked, his tone still commanding.

It shook its head frantically. "Mustn't ask us. Mustn't ask."

"Speak."

"Who does it serve? It must say!" Severus sneered at the creature, his patience exhausted.

"Incarcerous!" Thick robes bound the creature, and it began to panic and twist against the bonds as if it had been placed under the Cruciatus Curse. Realizing that such a racket could attract unwanted attention, Severus quickly cast a silencing charm, but it was too late.

"Who goes there?" came a stern voice, and Severus whirled around, his sopping robes uncomfortable in the near-freezing air of the stinking marsh. His gaze fell upon a very stern, unkempt man who greatly resembled his most hated nemesis Sirius Black; tall, with grey eyes, shaggy dark hair, and handsome features. He was armed with an impressive sword, and he seemed to have a keen warrior's instinct. Severus knew immediately to be on his guard.

"I would ask you," Severus said smoothly, a meaningful glance at his wand. The man did not understand the threat Severus posed, but he understood the gesture, and his arm moved quickly to his own weapon.

"You are unarmed, friend. What is your business here?" He was certainly politer than Black.

"You underestimate me, _friend_ ," Severus said mockingly, and with a quick jab of his wand, a small fire erupted between them. The stern warrior flinched back in terror, and Severus smirked. The man was definitely a muggle.

"Sorcerer! What is this?" he demanded, his face changing from fear to determination and his voice quickly taking on an edge of contempt to mask his moment of weakness. Severus waved his wand lazily, and the fire disappeared.

"A simple spell; nothing more," Severus answered. "I do believe that it is you who will be answering my questions?"

"As you wish," the man said. "Have you food?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "I merely wish to offer you my hospitality, such as it is."

"Indeed? I would prefer if you surrendered your weapon first."

"I have no reason to trust you, friend," the man said coolly. Severus smiled evilly.

"Perhaps you would like to join your friend here?" he asked mildly, gesturing to Smeagol. The creature was gazing up at him with mute loathing. The man was clearly trying to hide it, but Severus could sense the shock.

"Your threats reveal your Dark intent," the man said frostily. "Though I must admit your... appearance hinted at it." Severus seethed silently at the insult, and suddenly it was Sirius Black standing before him.

"You will surrender your weapon _now_." The man wavered, unwilling to be cowed, and Severus jabbed his wand threateningly. With great reluctance, the warrior laid his sword along with several daggers at his feet and backed away. Severus briefly considered summoning it, but quickly decided that it would be prudent to hide the extent of his powers as much as possible. He stepped cautiously to the sword, and picked it up. "I thank you for you... cooperation."

"Interesting way you have of putting that, Dark one," the man said coolly, his face a mask of contempt as he glared at Severus. Severus attempted to probe his mind, but something prevented him. While not a wizard, the man was not quite a muggle either, and Severus felt his caution rise.

"Your juvenile taunts are most appreciated," Severus said mildly. The man's eyes widened slightly at his words, and suddenly, he let out a laugh.

"Indeed? Perhaps I have misjudged you! No servant of the Enemy has ever given me cause for amusement before."

"Your faith in me is touching," Severus said sarcastically, but the man seemed to take his words as sincere, and smiled at him. "We will start with your name."

"I am called many things, friend," he said. "As a token of trust, I will give you the truth: my name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

Severus nearly laughed at the pomposity of his proclamation, but caught himself short. "Most impressive."

The man looked at him quizzically. "You are not sincere?"

"What is your purpose here?" Severus asked, ignoring the question. Unlike Aragorn, he was not ready to trust yet. His secrets would remain his own.

"My purpose was to capture him," Aragorn said, nodding to the wretch. Smeagol's overlarge eyes darted between the two men resentfully.

"And he is?" Severus drawled

"Gollum..." Severus frowned at the apparent lie. "He is also known as Smeagol."

"You are an honest man," Severus said, and he let a sliver of mockery enter his voice at the proclamation.

"Perhaps you would be willing to reciprocate?" the man asked, ignoring Severus' implied insult. His piercing grey eyes boring into Severus. Severus found himself impressed by the man despite himself.

"What would you like to know?"

"Your name."

Severus considered for a long moment. He could tell that he was not in Wizarding Britain anymore, but beyond that he could not guess. His name could surely not harm him in the muggle world, and foreign Wizarding Governments would be forced to treat him respectfully given his official status as Headmaster of Hogwarts regardless of any rumors otherwise.

"Severus Snape."

"Snape is your father?"

"No, my father is Tobias," Severus said quickly. "Snape is my surname."

"Well met, Severus son of Tobias," the man said genially, and he smiled. It should have sounded pompous, but somehow it seemed appropriate when he said it. Severus felt the absurd desire to reciprocate the man's amiability.

"The same to you, Aragorn." Severus did not bother to attempt a smile of his own.

"Are you from the South?" Aragorn asked. Severus frowned slightly.

"I'm afraid that is all the information I'm willing to share," Severus said politely. Aragorn nodded in acceptance.

"Fair enough, friend. I fear that I cannot offer you any more information myself, save by coercion."

"Perhaps we can come to an agreement?" Severus asked. "Your friend for the knowledge I desire."

Aragorn seemed to consider Severus for a moment. "I will trust you, Severus. Surrender Gollum to me, and I will answer any question you ask that I do not deem confidential."

"I will agree to that," Severus said. The warrior was very shrewd, but Severus could sense no hint of treachery or dishonesty, and found himself wanting to like him. He laid Aragorn's weapons at his feet, and pocketed his wand. "I will trust you as well."

The man smiled at that, and he sat down on a particularly dry patch of grass.

"Have you eaten of late?" Aragorn asked as he opened his pack. It was not like the ones he saw Hogwarts students wearing. It appeared to be made out of actual leather, and worn from long use.

"I have not," Severus said. He had not eaten at all since Harry Potter had been spotted in Hogsmeade, and the tenseness of the following events had pushed any consideration of his appetite from his mind. Aragorn pulled several leave-wrapped, hard, sponge-like items from his pack, and handed several to Severus.

"Have you eaten lembas before?"

"I've never heard of such a thing."

"A small bite will suffice for nearly a day. Eating more would be wasteful." Severus looked at the dry bread tentatively. Was it magical? He broke off a small piece, and cautiously put it into his mouth. It tasted very bad, and Severus nearly spit it out, but he forced it down anyway.

"Give it time. It is meant to sustain; nothing more." Severus thought that reasonable. Aragorn offered a piece of the bread to Smeagol, but the creature merely turned away in disgust at it. "Why does he not speak?"

"I don't know," Severus lied.

"You have put an enchantment upon him," Aragorn said, and his tone was accusing.

"What does it matter?"

"It is cruel to not let him speak." Aragorn was glaring at him, and Severus felt guilty despite himself. "I would like you to lift it."

"I can't."

"Do not lie, Severus." Severus flushed. Why had he let himself warm to the stranger?

"Fine," he snapped petulantly, and with a reluctant wave of his wand, the creature began to shriek loudly once again and thrash wildly against its bonds. Aragorn flinched in surprise. "Happy now?"

"Get it off us! Get it off! Wicked, cruel men! Get it of us!" it shrieked. Severus did not hide his disgust at the display.

"You will be silent, Smeagol," Aragorn said sternly. Severus found himself taken aback by the commanding voice, but Smeagol paid it no heed. "Must I ask Severus to silence you?"

The shrieking and thrashing stopped suddenly, but it continued to gaze insolently at Aragorn. "Are you hungry?"

"We cannot eat it, precious. Nasty elf-food. No, not us..." The creature glared resentfully at Aragorn as if expecting pity. Severus felt none. He should take the food that is offered. Foul taste aside, Severus found that his hunger had abated completely. It was as if he had eaten a full meal.

"You must eat," Aragorn said gently. "It is good food."

"Just leave him," Severus said coldly.

"We cannot let him starve." Aragorn said firmly.

"It is his own choice." Aragorn gave him a long look before turning back to Smeagol.

"There will be game once we leave the marshes. We will feed you then."

"If you wish to waste good food on him..." Severus muttered. Aragorn pretended he hadn't heard.

"I must begin my journey once again, Severus. If you wish to ask me your questions, you will need to accompany me." Aragorn pushed the bread back into his pack. "I thank you for finding Gollum for me."

"Very well. I will follow you."

Severus shrank the pieces he had been given and put them into his pocket while the other man wasn't looking. He had never once in his life gone into the wilderness, but he felt it would be prudent to hide his lack of experience as much as possible. Aragorn was obviously extremely gifted at it, and Severus could use magic for every need but food. Aragorn began to undo the ropes binding Smeagol.

"Do you think that is wise?" Severus asked.

"I do not see any other way," Aragorn said. Severus caught himself before suggesting that he could levitate the creature. "We will have to keep close watch on him."

"We will obey," Smeagol said meekly. "Good masters will not hurt us!" The creature gave Severus a weary, frightful glance. Severus waited until Aragorn looked away to give a dark, menacing sneer in return, and was satisfied to see it cower in terror. "Nice master! Nice master will not hurt us, precious."

It quickly became obvious to Severus that Smeagol knew the path far better than Aragorn did, and Aragorn would often choose to follow the creature's lead. He pointedly did not mention this fact to Severus, which was even more interesting. The shrewd man had obviously been able to discern some of Severus' nature, even if only subconsciously. Severus would have objected openly, but the knowledge that he could always take to the air and fly away, weeks of food stowed in his pocket, meant that he found himself mostly unconcerned.

"You wished to ask me questions," Aragorn said as they wound their way through taller grasses. He found himself somewhat out of breath from the effort of keeping up with the trained warrior and the wiry creature. He could not deny that being the hated Headmaster of Hogwarts had left him little time for physical activity.

"The truth is that I'm not from here," Severus said between breaths. "I do not know where I come from is in relation to this place."

"That is curious," Aragorn said. "If I may ask, where are you from?"

"England... but I was last in Scotland." Severus was almost certain that this information could not be used against him.

"I have never heard of such places. Are they in the South?"

"No, they are very far north."

"Have you heard of Gondor? Arnor? Mordor?" Severus did not miss the subtle hunt of unease at the last word.

"None of those are familiar to me."

"That is curious, Severus. We must ask Gandalf when we meet him."

"Gandalf?"

"He is a sorcerer like yourself."

"Indeed? Wizards and muggles know of each other?"

"Muggles?" Aragorn frowned.

"Those without magic."

"All possess some magic, Severus."

"Perhaps... but those who cannot perform sorcery."

"Muggle sounds vulgar to me - almost like a curse."

"It is the word we use where I come from," Severus said impatiently.

"There are degrees of magic here. The five Wizards are the true sorcerers, but the Elves have their own magic, as do the Dwarves." Severus had nothing against them, but he did not particularly care about house elves and dwarves.

"That's true where I am from too. I was referring to humans only."

"Humans? You mean the race of Men?"

"Yes."

"Your question becomes clear, Severus. Men possess little magic, save those of the Dunedain."

"You are a Dunedain?" Severus asked. It would explain Aragorn's resistance to his Legilimency. Aragorn have him a shrewd look.

"You are perceptive, Severus. Yes, I am one of them, but we possess few abilities. Legend has it that we are descendents of the Elf Luthien. Only the five wizards possess true magic, and they are not true Men."

"That is interesting," Severus said. He felt no need to inform Aragorn that there were thousands of wizards where he was from. "Those places you mentioned. Where are they?"

Aragorn spend most of the rest of the night explaining each of the locations. His voice was full of pride as he described Gondor, the southern remnant of the great empire of Men that had once ruled the entire area that Severus found himself in. Aragorn became sadder as he moved on to Arnor, the doomed northern kingdom. It had been destroyed by a mysterious Dark sorcerer called the Witch-King of Angmar. Most of the names; mighty kings and great deeds and glorious battles; were quickly forgotten by Severus. He would need focused internal legilimency to recover the knowledge. The name Mordor sounded absurdly sinister even to Severus, so he was not surprised when Aragorn's voice dropped to a whisper.

"I would not speak of that here, but I cannot leave you ignorant." Severus could not deny that he was touched by the man's concern for his well being. "What do you know of Sauron the Great?"

"Nothing."

"He is the Dark Lord of Mordor." Severus forced his face to remain neutral, and Aragorn continued on a low voice while his mind reeled. The last thing he needed was another Dark Lord to deal with. He just hoped that Sauron wasn't _his_ Dark Lord. "He was defeated thousands of years ago, but we have reason to believe he has returned."

"He's been alive for thousands of years?" Severus asked incredulously. The Philosopher's stone and Horcruxes could be used to keep a wizard alive forever, but, as far as anybody knew, none had lasted nearly that long. Herpo the foul had lived a shorter life than most, and Nicolas Flamel had ended his life voluntarily in his sixth hundred sixty-sixth year to keep the stone from Lord Voldemort.

"This surprises you?" Aragorn asked, frowning. "Many Elves have been alive that long as well."

"Elves? They live shorter lives than Men!" Aragorn laughed.

"Your elves are not ours then, my friend. Elves are immortal - they do not die save mortal injury."

"Sauron is an elf?"

"You would be wise to not throw that name around lightly," Aragorn said quickly. "It is an evil one."

"What should he called?"

"We call him the Enemy, or the Dark Lord." Severus could not stop a smile from creeping across his face as he remember Potter's accusation long ago. "That is amusing?"

"Nothing. Continue..."

"The Dark Lord is not an Elf. He is a Ainur, a Power of the World." Severus digested that. It sounded suspiciously like _God_ , of the polytheistic kind. Were they more than mere myth after all? "The term is alien to you?"

"It is."

"Were you born of a woman, Severus?" Severus frowned. It was an odd question.

"I was."

"Will you die?"

"I believe so," Severus drawled.

"That is very curious. You are a mortal sorcerer - a true Man, like me."

"As far as I know."

"All other sorcerers are Ainur themselves." Severus seethed silently at Aragorn's uncanny ability to worm information out of him that he would have preferred, in retrospect, to not have been shared. "Sauron is powerful because the other Ainur have chosen not to interfere in our affairs. They sent the Wizards to help us. It would not surprise me if they sent you as well." Severus was about to tell Aragorn that he had, as far as he knew, not been sent on any divine quest, but thought better of it.

"The Dark Lord - does he have many followers?"

"We do not know how many servants the Dark Lord commands - tens, maybe hundreds of thousands hidden behind the Mountains of Shadow. His followers are many Men from the South and the East, as well as untold numbers of Orcs and other evil creatures."

"Does he command Wizards?"

"No, only the Witch-King, and he is only a Nazgul. They are his most powerful servants, but Galdalf tells me that their magic is derived from the Enemy himself and is not a part of their own nature."

"How's the war going?"

"The Dark Lord and his servant, the Witch King, have been threatening the borders of Gondor for hundreds of years. The White Council was able to drive him from Dol Guldur, but he has amassed great strength in Mordor." Severus could detect a weariness in Aragorn's tone.

"You are a soldier of Gondor?" Aragorn gave Severus a sharp look.

"That is information I cannot share," he said firmly.

"That nature of Smeagol?"

"That as well."

"Fair enough," Severus said patiently. "I thank you for the information you have given me, Aragorn."

"It was my pleasure, Severus. I hope with Gandalf's help we can uncover the reason for your sudden appearance."

They made camp after that. The sun had already climbed higher into the sky, and it peeked out of the clouds at several occasions. The muggy air was only getting colder, and Severus wished desperately for a warming charm. Aragorn painstakingly retied the bonds around a protesting Smeagol, but the wretch looked a lot less uncomfortable than he did under Severus' binding spell.

"I will take first watch," Aragorn said stoically. Severus thought for only a moment before he decided that sometimes, comfort could come before secrecy. He was tired, and unused to traveling on foot for many hours. He did not want to be woken and forced to sit idle for hours while Aragorn slept.

"I do not think that will be necessary. I can perform enchantments that will hide us from any observer."

"Friend or foe?"

"It does not discriminate."

"I do not know, Severus. We must watch Smeagol."

"He will not be a problem." Aragorn gave Severus a weary look, but it was clear the man was no more eager to stay on watch than Severus was. Severus set about muttering the enchantments. They had camped on a small island surrounded by tall reeds that grew out of a murky bog, and flies swarmed around the perimeter of Severus' repulsion charm like a cloud. It seemed that the curse was lessening as they neared the edge of the marsh.

"You possess great powers," Aragorn said. "I would offer to share my equipment in gratitude." Severus allowed himself to smile.

"That will not be needed." Severus was not as strong at transfiguration as he was at charms and potions, but his skills were still more than adequate. He took the time to focus, and with a practiced, complex motion of his wand he conjured an identical copy of Aragorn's camping gear. Several items, however, proved impossible to copy.

"They are Elf-made. Their magic cannot be so easily replicated," Aragorn said. "I must tell you of the Elves tomorrow." Aragorn's seemed to have lit up at the very mention of Elves, and Severus could tell that they were a topic very dear to him.

Severus performed a weak, but effective wordless confundus charm on Smeagol. He knew Aragorn would disapprove, but the treacherous nature of the creature was obvious to Severus, and he did not want to wake up to a rock in the back if the head. He created a crude covering for himself and, with some reluctance, for Smeagol as well.

The sun was low in the sky when they woke. Severus had not slept so well in many years, but every muscle in his body ached terribly from the unused to physical exertion the of the night before. He would normally have taken a mild pain relieving potion, but the distinct lack of both ingredients, equipment, or time meant that idea was not possible.

"You are unused to the wild," Aragorn said sympathetically as he saw Severus wincing in pain. "How is it you came to this place?"

"I do not wish to reveal that," Severus admitted. Aragorn did not seem surprised.

"You are shrewd, Severus, and slow to trust. I hope you will see me as a friend some day." Aragorn's words made Severus pause. Aragorn had been willing to trust him almost immediately, and was clearly not a matter of simple expediency. Most people took one look at Severus and decided he was up to no good.

"Why do you trust me?" Severus asked. Aragorn gave him a curious look.

"I cannot say. I trust my instincts; they have not failed me yet." Severus thought on that as he undid the charm on Smeagol.

"Cruel, wicked masters to leave Smeagol tied up," the creature cried as Aragorn undid its bonds. Severus rolled his eyes at the pathetic antics. "They kidnap us; starves us! They are nasty, false tricksy Men."

"I don't understand how such a pathetic creature could possibly be of use," Severus said nastily as they began to follow him through the endless, swampy expanse. Smeagol have him a resentful, hate-filled glare, but acted as if he had not heard.

"Smeagol is very cunning, Severus. It would be foolish to underestimate him." Severus snorted in derision.

"I know his type. He poses no threat as long as your back isn't turned and you aren't stupid enough to trust him." Severus continued to stare contemptuously at the wretch as it crawled ahead if them and out of earshot. It moved more like a spider than the humanoid it resembled, and it muttered constantly to itself.

Aragorn seemed more passionate as he explained the Elves to Severus then when he had explained the kingdoms of Men. He was raised among them when his father was killed by goblins, which were apparently far more malicious and violent than the merely shrewd and unpleasant creatures Severus was familiar with. For all their faults, the goblins of Britain would never serve a Dark Wizard, if only because they wouldn't serve any wizard.

"Is Elrond the ruler of where we are going?" Severus asked. Aragorn clearly wanted to continue discussing his foster-home in Rivendell, but he allowed Severus to change the subject.

"No, we seek the realm of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. It lies within Mirkwood, directly north of us."

"How far is it?"

"We will be able to acquire mounts after we cross the Emyn Muil," Aragorn explained, gesturing to the harsh, barren hills that were has steadily approached through the night. They looked like silent, imposing, ragged shadows in the moonlight. "We will travel from there to the the Anduin, just north of the Rauros."

"The Anduin?" Severus asked.

"It is a great river. It will take us up along the west of Mirkwood, where we can enter the Elf Road, and from there, the Woodland Realm."

"Do you have a map?" Severus asked. He could not wrap his mind around all the names Aragorn was throwing out. They all sounded equally alien and confusing to him.

"Maps? Such a valuable thing could not be risked on my journey. The skill and knowledge required to craft a map is not common, friend." Severus scoffed. "You disagree?"

"Do you have parchment or paper?" Severus asked.

"None that I would spoil," Aragorn said. Severus glared at him resentfully. "Do not take offense. I have none that are yet to be written upon."

Severus pondered the odd primitiveness of the muggles in this world. He disdained muggle technology as much as any wizard, but even he could not deny that its absence was a huge frustration. It would take them nearly a month to make the journey to Mirkwood, if Aragorn's reckoning was true; even flying would take Severus weeks. Severus would be able to Apparate with ease, but Apparition was extremely dangerous unless he had visited the destination first.

On the other hand, without any apparent Ministry of Magic breathing down everyone's neck, he was free to create a Portkey wherever and whenever he desired. He could perform magic whenever he wanted, in front of whoever he wanted, though prudence would warn against that. He could perform Dark Magic with impunity, including the Unforgivable curses, and he no longer needed to report to either the Dark Lord or Dumbledore.

Severus could not deny that, crushing grief over his wasted life aside, he was feeling far more optimistic than he had in nearly two decades. That Aragorn seemed to be willing to count him a friend already was a surprising bonus. He, unlike Dumbledore, treated Severus as a true equal. He had not had that since Lily, and with her, he had always hidden a bitter envy that had exploded out on that horrible day and ruined everything.

The reached the foot of the Emyn Muil as twilight turned into dawn, and the sun began to peek out over the distant, faint Mountains of Shadow. The hills loomed high above, looking almost like mountains in their own right to Severus, who had never left the British Islands. They were almost entirely bare, with black and gray, jagged rock inter-spaced with rare patches of grass and moss.

"See? See? We leads them true, Precious. Kind masters will be generous, yes?" Smeagol pleaded, it's pale eyes on Aragorn and pointedly avoiding Severus.

"Yes, you have kept your word, Gollum," Aragorn said. "We will allow you to remain unbound." Severus nearly choked.

"Are you completely mad?" Aragorn's grey eyes had a stubborn glint.

"Gollum has kept his word, Severus. We cannot leave him tied up. We must show that his cooperation will be rewarded. I will take first watch, and wake you later in the afternoon." Severus sputtered in outrage.

"Perhaps I will leave you to your own devices," Severus said nastily. Aragorn sat down, and pulled his sword out. He began to idly run a cloth along the blade.

"You may do as you wish," Aragorn said patiently, and Severus seethed. "It will sadden me to see you leave."

Severus petulantly rolled out his sleeping bag onto the hard ground. If there was one benefit to walking for ten hours straight, it was that insomnia was no longer an issue, and before he knew it, he was rudely awakened by Aragorn. The ache in his calves and feet seemed to have only intensified during his too brief nap.

"Wake me when the sun touches the top of the that hill," Aragorn gestured to a tall outcropping just west of them. "Do not let Gollum out of your sight. He is very dangerous." Aragorn climbed into his absurdly elegant tent, and Severus could hear him snoring almost immediately.

"Is master tired?" Smeagol asked gently, and Severus could swear that the wretch was mocking him. His eyes closed. "Good, good, go to sleep. You can trust us."

Severus jerked his head up, and stood up, his wand raised.

"No, no, mustn't be cruel, precious," Smeagol whined. "We will wake other master, nice master! We will." Smeagol's blue eyes were fixed on Severus' own, and Severus could see the dislike in them.

"You will be silent, and you will sit still," Severus said firmly. "I tire of your idiotic antics, creature."

"Nasty, wicked master," Smeagol muttered, his resentful eyes breaking contact. "It hates us; it hates us because it is like us, yes, not like nice master; it knows darkness." Severus felt the hairs standing up on the back of his neck as Smeagol's voice lowered to a whisper. "Oh yes, we sees it. We knows its secret."

"Be quiet," Severus snapped, glaring menacingly at the creature, his tone becoming very harsh. Smeagol flinched pathetically and obeyed. Severus sat down once again on a small, hard outcropping, and stared at the creature. His eyes began to feel heavy, and after several near-misses where his head nodded, he realized that he would need to keep himself distracted. "Why are you unable to speak properly?"

"What does it mean, precious?"

"What is precious? Why do you keep saying that?" Severus asked harshly, his tone full of irritation. Smeagol ignored his question. Severus had not expected an answer, but he had little else to do, and he could not deny his amusement. He had greatly enjoyed tormenting Wormtail at his home in Spinner's End, but Wormtail always reminded him painfully of the past, and how he was as much responsible for Lily's death as traitor. "Do you ever sleep?"

"We sleeps... when we wants to," Smeagol said coldly. Severus stared resentfully up at the sky. He doubted more than half an hour had passed. "Master should sleep. Needs his strength; not like nice master. He is weak; weak and wretched, not able to live in the wild."

Severus sat for a long while. He went over the things Aragorn had told him. He was not on Earth anymore. That much was clear. There were no places called Gondor or Mordor, nor had there ever been in known history. Perhaps he had gone hundreds of years into a post-apocalyptic future? Maybe he had gone to another dimensions. He didn't know. If Dumbledore was to believed, there was an afterlife. Severus could only assume he was in it. Was he in Purgatory? Was this a way for him to redeem his rotten soul? He didn't know.

Smeagol continued to glare at him petulantly. Severus could not see more than a nervous rush of jumbled emotions when he attempted passive legilimency, but he was unwilling to attempt a more direct method while the creature was fully awake and aware. Some madness seemed to drive Smeagol, because the creature muttered and grumbled continuously throughout the night. It was only as the sun was approaching the point in the hill which meant that Aragorn would continue his journey that he saw the creature's eyes grow heavy and its muttering cease. Severus surreptitiously pointed his wand at it, his mouth forming the incantation as his mind prepared to attack.

Smeagol jerked awake instantly, eyes narrowed and wide mouth set into a frown. "What is it doing, precious? Nasty Wizard wants to hurt us. We will wake nice master, if he does. Won't we, precious?"

His opportunity lost, Severus felt a flash of frustrated rage. In a moment of blind anger, he decided to go ahead with his plan anyway, and he jabbed his wand forward.

"Legilimens!"

He was strangling a short, broad man. He jerked him back and forth, his mind mad with greed... He was digging through fishbones and small stones, his fingers slick with grime, but it wasn't there. He was panicking now, desperately trying to reassure himself... He was crying in agony. He cursed the Dark Lord. He cursed Baggins. He cursed every hobbit in the Shire. Only when the torturers stopped their work did he realize he had spoken aloud... He felt a rush of invisible air above him, and he grabbed desperately for it, but it was too late, and he cursed bitterly at its retreat... He pulled the surprisingly heavy gold band from the dead finger, and examined it. It was very plane and unadorned, but very beautiful. He put it on... He was climbing to his feet, humiliated, as James Potter flirted shamelessly with Lily. He could tell she was enjoying it, and he shouted out the most hurtful thing he could think of...

Severus cried out as he broke the connection, but it was too late. Smeagol had already lunged at Severus faster than he would have thought possible, and he was knocked from his feet. Smeagol wrenched the wand from his fingers, and aimed it at him. Severus only had a split second to watch in horror as it let out a burst of uncontrolled magic, and both he and the creature were thrown back. Aragorn was already emerging from his tent, sword raised, but it was too late. Smeagol was already scrambling away in a mad dash up a sheer rock face like a gigantic, pale spider.


	2. Emyn Muil

Aragorn did not curse Severus or berate him as he might have expected, but he could see the disappointment in the man's eyes every time he dared to look at him. Severus tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, and that he didn't care, and that it was Aragorn's fault for letting the wretch roam free, but his rationalistations rang hollow. Once again he had failed those he had promised to help, and it was entirely his own fault.

They split up and searched fruitlessly along the border between the marshes and the hills. Severus had even flown, but that was risky. It was not possible to disillusion while flying, at least not for him. Lord Voldemort had been able to fly with ease, but it required all Severus' concentration and focus just to preform the powerful enchantment. He saw no sign of the creature, but he did not expect to. It knew the area well, having passed through it several times before.

"Do not be too hard on yourself," Aragorn said later. The sun had once again begun to climb upward above the horizon. "You are not used to life on the road."

Severus wished he could excuse it with that. He looked sullenly at his feet as he forced down another piece of the elvish bread. The taste had grown no less unpleasant, and he realized, with some unease, that it was not an inherent property of the lembas. It tasted foul because he, like Smeagol, was corrupted by darkness. He was glad that it was still nourishing. Aragorn was sitting down scraping one of his many daggers along his whetstone idly.

"I tried to probe its mind," Severus admitted finally. Aragorn gave him a long, sharp look.

"You can do this?" he asked, and he was unable to hide the unease in his voice. "That is a rare gift; I only know of two who possess it. The Lady Galadriel... and the Dark Lord."

"Who is Galadriel?"

"She is the ruler of Lothlorien, an Elven kingdom that lies between us and the Woodland Realm, though few mortals have ever been permitted to enter it. She is the most ancient Elf in Middle-Earth save Cirden, who is lord of the Grey Havens."

"Where is that?"

"Far to the west."

"Are there any other Elf countries I should know about?"

"No, that is all of them. The Elves have dwindled over the ages, and every year more and more sail to the West." Aragorn forestalled Severus' next question. "I know little of that place, save that it is believed to be where the Ainur themselves reside. I would know what you found, if you are willing to share it."

"I saw it," Severus said, and the flicker of unease in Aragorn's expression was unmistakable. "I saw the Ring. I saw his precious. I saw him put it on, and when he did, he was able to attack me."

"You must tell me everything you saw," Aragorn said, his voice tinged with desperation. Severus briefly considered demanding payment for such information, but he decided that Aragorn's trust and respect would be invaluable if what Severus had begun to suspect about his heritage was true.

He explained it all, down to the last detail, and he watched as Aragorn's expression darkened and grew more pensive.

"Gandalf was right," he said slowly. "There can be no doubt - it is the One Ring."

"The One Ring?"

"It appears your error has not been total, Severus. The information you were able to glimpse in his mind is that which we hoped to obtain."

"I must ask - why did the Dark Lord allow Gollum to escape Mordor?" Severus asked incredulously.

"Perhaps he thought it better to have Gollum find the ring than somebody else," Aragorn explained. "He has erred grievously though, because he has allowed us to discern his intentions."

"This ring... is it like a wand?" Severus asked.

"It is in some ways, but it is also part of him. He poured his own being into it when it was forged. He still possesses great powers without it, but with it they are multiplied many times over."

"Can he still be defeated with it?"

"He was at the end of the Second Age, but I fear there is not strength enough to do what was done then. The dwarves are scattered and quarrelsome, and the elves have given up on the mortal lands. Only Men still stand, and I have told you our sorry tale already."

"So he must not get it?"

"Gandalf fears that it will be too late if he does, but the Enemy knows where the Ring is now, and he will have sent his servants to retrieve it already. I fear that your appearance is connected. You would not be sent unless our need was great."

"You think it's my task to challenge him?" Severus asked, a horrified expression on his face. He truly had been sent to Hell after all.

"I do not wish that on you, friend," Aragorn said, his expression genuinely sympathetic, "but if the Dark Lord gains the ring, I fear you may be the only one who is able to challenge him."

"What if I choose not to do this?" Severus asked. Aragorn began to laugh as if the very idea was absurd.

"You cannot hide your true nature from me, Severus."

"You give me too much credit," Severus muttered. Aragorn gave him a serious look. "You know nothing of me."

"You fell into darkness. This I know."

"If you believe that," Severus hissed, "then why do you trust me?"

"I know also that you turned from it. I, too, have made grievous mistakes in my past; mistakes I will never fully atone for." Severus could not stop the sneer from forming.

"Did you forget to thank your mother for changing your nappies once?" Severus asked sardonically. Aragorn laughed again, but Severus felt anger coming over him. "You know nothing of darkness - to know you killed the one you loved."

"I know of that too," Aragorn said mournfully. "To be with the one I love, she must die."

"At least you get to be with her," Severus said bitterly.

"You must tell me of her, Severus," Aragorn said.

"No. I will not." Severus did not bother to hide the sadness that crossed his face.

"I bid you tell me, Severus. It will lighten your grief. I would hear the best part of you." Severus would have scoffed and snorted were it anybody else, but he found that he had warmed to the man.

"I will tell you when I'm ready."

"I will be glad to hear your tale then. Perhaps you would like to hear a tale of our land?" Severus considered this. "I feel that it may help you forget your grief, if only for a time."

"If that's possible, then I would like to hear it." Aragorn smiled. It was always surprising when the grim, proud man smiled. Aragorn possessed the quiet, confident dignity that Severus so wished he could project, but knew he fell far short of. Then Aragorn began to sing, and somehow, that also did not seem absurd.

The leaves were long, the grass was green,

...

In the forest singing sorrowless.

Severus was weeping openly by the time Aragorn had finished. The feelings Beren had had for Luthien upon first meeting were so very similar to those Severus had felt so long ago as a ten-year-old boy... but everything else was like a cruel rendition of what could have been, even if it was tragic in its own way. He did not even know, in truth, if Lily could have ever loved him as he had loved her, but the thought that she might have was worse than the thought that she could not have. Unlike courageous Beren he had given up on her; had bowed his head to the Dark Lord and agreed to become his slave forever.

"I see I have only increased your sorrow," Aragorn said sadly.

"I wish I'd never met her," Severus said miserably.

"You would be worse for it, my friend," Aragorn said. "I do not know if I will ever be worthy of the one I love."

"Of course you're worthy," Severus said bitterly. "You're a great warrior, you're everything a woman could want."

"You have much yet to learn, Severus," Aragorn said gently, cutting him off. "I fear we will need to keep watch this day. We cannot trust that your enchantments will protect against Gollum after what happened earlier."

"The Ring continues to protect him even while he doesn't have it," Severus agreed. "It must be a very powerful Dark artifact."

"There is none stronger in all the world," Aragorn said cryptically.

Severus spent much of his time on watch the next day flying overhead, but he always kept Aragorn's tent in sight. He saw nothing of Smeagol among the many jagged hills and rocks of the Emyn Muil. His mind went over the many things he had learned on his third day in middle earth. He tried his best to forget Aragorn's painful poem, but that was a fruitless task.

It began to rain as the evening approached, and Severus reluctantly woke Aragorn. Though Smeagol's capture was no longer necessary, he still held out hope that he could find him and recapture him, if only to impress Aragorn and make up for his idiotic mistake. He found that he wanted Aragorn to like him, and he desperately wanted the man to admire him. Aragorn did not inspire lust in Severus as Lily had, but he found that many of the feelings he had once had toward his childhood friend were making themselves apparent once again, and he found himself for the first time since his fifth year at Hogwarts feeling true companionship.

"You must promise me, Severus, that you will never touch the Ring. I fear it will tempt you more than anybody. It will use your grief to twist you." Severus could not deny that even where he was, possibly many thousands of miles from the artifact, that he was tempted. "It can never give you what you have lost. It can only give you an imitation - an evil one."

"There is more to me than grief, Aragorn," Severus said softly. "I do desire power for its own sake."

"It would make a slave of you. You would be forced to serve him. Your powers are great, but you still possess only the will of a Man. You could never hope to conquer its power." Severus was absurdly grateful that Aragorn was not judging him for his past failures. The man once again began to rhyme out a small poem. Severus was beginning to realize that in a world without recordings and cheap paper, songs and rhymes were invaluable.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,  
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,  
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,  
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne  
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.  
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,  
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them  
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

"So you see, Severus? The One Ring is for the Dark Lord only. It is a part of him even more than your wand is a part of you." Aragorn's grey eyes were fixed on his own, willing him to understand.

"I understand," Severus said, and on a logical level he very much did, but a small part of his mind could not be prevented from asking dangerous questions. To wield such power would put him above Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort. He would have might greater than any wizard to ever live. All would bend to his will. What was love and desire compared to such glory? "Why was it not destroyed when he was defeated last time?"

The explanation for that was much longer than Severus anticipated. The story of Isildur, the Last Alliance, and the Cracks of Doom saw them climb up a sneer cliff face with Aragorn's elven rope that Severus found extraordinarily unpleasant to touch. Severus did his best to listen intently as he struggled to climb. The rope seemed to hold his fingers to it like glue, and repel the raindrops, but the rocky wall was slippery and treacherous, and Severus had several near misses. He could, of course, just fly away, but that did not calm the animal part of his brain that insisted that any slip would lead to mortal peril.

"Do you have the means to fly? Perhaps the ring can be flown into the mountain." Aragorn considered this question as he pulled the anchor from the wall and reeled his rope. Severus looked out over where they had come. The hill they had scaled was among the tallest, but the marshes were gone from sight. Only endless other hills stretched out on all sides. Severus had only been able to see them in the distance when he had flown that night.

"Only the Eagles could do such a thing, and their power is such that the Ring would corrupt them. They would just as quickly take it directly to Barad-Dur as destroy it." Aragorn did not need to explain that Severus would be subject to the same issue for him to realize it.

"What's your plan, then?" Severus asked. Aragorn took a moment to consider.

"We do not have one. We did not know in truth that the ring Gandalf has seen was the One. Gandalf is now gathering the final piece of evidence. We must make haste to intercept it before the Enemy gains it."

"Who does possess the ring?" Severus asked. Aragorn gave him an apologetic look.

"That is one secret I fear is not mine to share." Severus could not hide his hurt at that, even if he did understand the logic.

Severus was very glad that he had broken himself in in the marshes. The ragged, hilly terrain of the Emyn Muil was far more difficult, especially the climbing. He resisted the temptation to aid himself with magic. He had already grown stronger, and he no longer felt such a great ache in his feet. Aragorn continued to tell him tales of his world, but eventually, Severus decided that the other man was trustworthy, and he began to share the secrets of his own.

"There are thousands of wizards like yourself?" Aragorn was completely astonished.

"Not exactly. I am more powerful than most, but there were several more so than me as well."

"Do wizards rule over muggles?" Aragorn asked.

"No, we keep ourselves secret. In ancient times wizards did rule openly, but that was felt to not be acceptable. The muggles resented it... and perhaps the wizards took liberties that were... not entirely just."

"Wizards took advantage of their power?"

"It's worse than that. Many wizards would like for muggles to not exist entirely." Aragorn gave Severus a look of complete horror.

"That is a monstrous thought!" Aragorn cried. "Morgoth, the ancient Foe, thought such about all the Children of Iluvatar."

"It is... it is one such wizard who I served," Severus admitted reluctantly. Aragorn nodded patiently, and whatever horror he felt at the thought he kept to himself. "He did not truly believe... I am almost certain he used it only as a means to gain supporters."

"An evil notion used by an evil man. It is always the way of things. Why did you choose to serve him?" Aragorn's tone was not accusatory, but Severus could not stop himself from feeling defensive.

"Not all of us are lucky enough to be raised by beautiful, immortal beings who treat is as if we were their own child," Severus said bitterly. "Those who claimed to be righteous judged me immediately and condemned me."

"You lay your actions at their feet?" Aragorn asked coolly. Severus forced his anger and hurt under control.

"It's easy to be strong when the universe hands you everything, Lord Aragorn," he said spitefully, a mocking edge on the title. Aragorn, who had not directly revealed his heritage to Severus, was taken aback. "Some of is are doomed to tragedy and misery; poor, ugly nobodies who aren't even worth the love of their own parents."

"Your bitterness and envy were your doom, Severus," Aragorn said, but his tone was patient rather than condemning. "You were given great gifts; you admitted as such yourself."

"I was given the greatest gift," Severus said miserably, "and I threw it away. You're right, Aragorn, but that doesn't make the grief any lighter."

"I think it is time you told me of her," Aragorn said. Severus did not respond for a long moment. "It will lighten your heart."

They sat for long moments, but eventually Severus began to speak. He told Aragorn all of it, not just the worst of it as he had shown Harry Potter at his moment of dying. The time before he had pushed Lily into Potter's waiting arms. The time before he foolishly heeded Sirius Black's murderous advice in his envious desire to see his rival expelled, and before he began to turn toward the Dark Lord and his supporters out of a misguided, spiteful desire to show his enemies that he would be greater than them.

Those memories were haziest, and most painful. It saddened him that the later memories after she had scorned his friendship, and they had gone their separate ways, were so much clearer. Much as he had loved Lily, he could never deny his own attraction to the Dark Arts. He had enjoyed serving the Dark Lord as he had enjoyed nothing before. He had, for the first time in his life, belonged. Not only belonged, but was rewarded and praised. The bitter irony that before his death he had achieved what every Death eater could only dream of, the Dark Lord's highest favor, and found it utterly hollow, had not been lost on him.

"Why did you give up on her?" Aragorn asked after his tale was complete. Severus frowned.

"She no longer wished to speak to me," Severus said bitterly. "I respected her choice." He had hated Lily when she had done that. It had felt like a complete betrayal. Only later on did he begin to understand why she had done it, and it had been too late then.

"She wanted you to tell her how you felt," Aragorn said, his voice surprisingly mournful. "Did she not ask you 'why should I be any different?'"

"How could I answer that?" Severus asked. She hated that he looked down on any muggle-born. That was her whole point, wasn't it? To tell him he was a hypocrite.

"With the truth, my friend."

"She did not want the truth. She was done with me; she had fallen for Potter." Severus no longer made any attempt to hide his bitterness and regret, and Aragorn looked at him sadly.

"Do not be so sure, Severus. Had you the courage to tell her of your love, then she would know you had the courage to turn away from Darkness." Severus snarled in frustration. He did not buy Aragorn's twisted logic, but just the thought that it could, just possibly, have been that simple only burned at him even more.

"It's too late now! She's lost to me. I killed her!" Severus cried. Aragorn looked at him sympathetically.

"It should comfort you, Severus, to know that she could have loved you. Let it give you strength, not bitterness. Your failures were grievous, and it is just that you suffer for them. Do not pretend this is not so... but you have turned from darkness and fought against it. You have been given another chance. Perhaps you will know love once again, now that you have found your courage."

"I don't know if I can love another," Severus said sadly, "but I will never foolishly fall into darkness again."

Aragorn smiled at him. "Your words gladden me, Severus. Never have I met one such as yourself. Would that the Enemy had such a change of heart."

"I don't think he can love," Severus said. "That's what Dumbledore always told me."

"I fear he was right," Aragorn said. "The Dark Lord only feels malice. He will not be stayed save utter defeat."

"How do you know this?" Severus asked, and a hated image of a boy who looked far too much like his worthless father floated to the front of his mind.

"Why would he change? The Dark Lord has overwhelming strength. He will be victorious, save great luck for us or a greater blunder by himself."

"There is no... prophesy concerning his defeat?" Severus asked wearily.

Aragorn gave him a curious look. "There is none that are known to me. Of the Witch King there is one, but it only says that he will not be defeated by any man."

"You're sure? No prophesy saying that the Dark Lord can only be defeated by a bratty teenager who has the wits of a flobberworm?" Aragorn began to laugh.

"Your manner is strange at times, friend. The Dark Lord was defeated by Elendil and Gil-Galad, and the ring cut from his finger by Isildur." Severus took a moment to remember that Aragorn had mentioned them earlier.

"They are your ancestors, are they not?" he asked. Aragorn nodded. "You are the bratty teenager then, it seems." Aragorn began to laugh again.

"You think so poorly of me? I do not believe I will defeat the Dark Lord. I do not even know if I am fit to rule, in truth." Severus scoffed, but felt guilty at Aragorn's surprisingly hurt look.

"We gave up on monarchy long ago in my world, both among wizards and muggles. I do not have any advice for you, I'm afraid." Aragorn had no response to that. Severus knew that his meeting of Aragorn was not coincidence. This was obviously his purgatory - his chance at redemption. "I will help you, Aragorn, in what ways I can, but do not expect me to bow to you as some kind of subject. I see no other purpose for me here... and you are far preferable to Potter."

"I would welcome your help, Severus, and gladly return my own. I did not expect to meet such a friend on this journey, and I am glad that I did." Severus allowed himself a rare smile at that.

Severus finally told Aragorn the story of Harry Potter. Aragorn took great amusement in Severus' clear resentment and bitterness toward the boy, though Severus could not fail to notice the man's strong disapproval of it. In some ways he was more like Dumbledore than Lily. Lily would have hated him for how he had treated the boy, but Severus could not find it in himself to pity Harry Potter, not even his final task.

"Leaders of men must often make such choices," Aragorn said of Dumbledore's decision to send the boy to his death. "It is why I fear to rule so much."

"You are a good man," Severus admitted grudgingly, and he could tell Aragorn took the compliment to heart. "I think you would be a good ruler, if there must be such a thing. I don't concern myself with the intricacies of muggle politics."

"Your faith gladdens me, friend, however cynically you express it." Severus scowled, and the bloody man grinned at him. "You do not enjoy the company of most men."

"No, I don't," Severus said, frowning. "I make no apology for it. Most men are blithering idiots." Aragorn began to laugh.

"You are a harsh one indeed, Severus. Perhaps you will learn to value all men some day."

"Not all men are of value," Severus said harshly. James Potter, Sirius Black, Bellatrix Lestrange, Peter Pettigrew...

"It is the responsibility of those given great ability to care for those who lack it. That is the order of things." Severus scoffed. "I see that you are unconvinced."

"You wouldn't understand," Severus said coolly. "You don't know what it's like to have somebody take one look at you and decide that you're not worth their time."

"I know it well, Severus. I am not known as Aragorn to most - I am a ranger. I am feared and mistrusted in that guise. You must be stronger than them. It is their own weakness that causes them to look upon you with disdain, not your own. Do not make the same mistakes that cost you every -"

Aragorn stopped suddenly, and bent down. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still muddy and slippery. "Can you remove the water from this pool without disturbing the bottom?"

Severus frowned down at the puddle. Aragorn was eying it curiously. "Perhaps..." With a practiced wave of his wand, Severus vanished the liquid, leaving only the muddy crust and a very distinct, clear footprint.

"Gollum has been through here only recently," Aragorn hissed silently. "The rain must have hidden our movements from him. We must go on in silence; we will split up."

They traveled silently the rest of the night, always keeping as far apart as possible but within shouting distance. Severus would never underestimate the wretched creature again, and he kept a firm grip on his wand. The hills were becoming steadily shallower and less jagged, and he knew that they were approaching the river Anduin. Their speed would increase greatly when they reached it. Severus could not deny that he was eager to see more of this strange world he found himself in, and the chance to eat something that did not taste terrible and had some actual substance to him was almost too much to hope for.

The rain started up again, heavier this time, as dawn began to approach, the sunlight coming in through distant gaps in the dark clouds. Severus could see flashes of thunder. He and Aragorn passed around a jutting outcrop, and they were out of sight for only a moment.

Severus was knocked to the ground and the wind was taken out if him. It was only through shear luck and his encounter with Smeagol days before that he managed to keep his wand in his grasp. The massive, stinking wolf let out a snarl before it's fangs closed around his shoulder. Severus let out a strangled cry as he jabbed his wand upward and shoved the end into it's ribs.

There was a flash of uncontrolled magic, and the large animal was blasted away from him with a surprisingly pitiful yelp. Severus aimed his wand at it and with a quick slashing motion saw a large wound open up that went along it's shoulder and across its face. The wolf stumbled and fell. Severus scrambled to his feet, but the wolf was up just as fast, it's eyes turned toward him in silent menace. The wolf was larger than any natural wolf, but it did not have the telltale features of a werewolf, and Severus breathed a silent sigh of relief that he was not inflicted with lycanthropy.

The wolf let out a snarl, saliva mixed with blood running down its absurdly large and unnaturally pointed teeth, before it lunged. Severus' blasting curse did little to shift the massive animal's momentum, but he hit it directly where he had already injured it. It cringed and veered to the side with a yelp, and it stumbled, its face smacking against the hard tone. Severus a saw clear shot at its vulnerable neck, and hisslashing curse struck true this time. Blood spurted from the animal's carotid and with a final shudder it went still.

The rain had only intensified, and the sun had begin to raise above a distant horizon. Severus had only a moment to glance at his surprisingly numb shoulder before he spotted two pairs of keen brown eyes staring at him, one to the left on level ground, the other atop the outcropping. He was about to lift off and fly out of attack range when suddenly a length of sword appeared through the first wolf's neck as Aragorn let out a cry.

His opportunity lost, the second wolf lunged down. Severus aimed a slashing curse at its neck, and saw a large wound open up, but the wolf landed as if nothing had happened and was on him almost immediately. Severus cried out as its jaws snapped shut just inches from his overlarge nose. The weight of it was crushing, and Severus felt his wand pushed from his fingers.

Aragorn let out a shout and hacked at it. The wolf let out a yelp and Severus took the chance to grasp his wand and squirm free. This wolf was larger even than the other two, and the two large wounds they had inflicted seemed to have no phased it at all. It danced away with surprising grace from Aragorn's second attack, and was now backing away wearily from the two men. Severus could see the fear in its eyes, and it opened its jaws to let out a loud howl and call for help. It was a fatal mistake, and Severus focused all his energy into his curse.

"Sectumsempra!" The Dark curse cut deep, and the wolf was dead on its feet before a sound came out. He saw a flash of horror in Aragorn's eyes, but the other man quickly hid it.

"Do not let your guard down," Aragorn said quickly, his sword held firmly. "There are likely more."

"What were those things?" Severus asked. He was panting heavily, and his heart was pounding. His shoulder was starting to become very painful, and he was having trouble moving his arm.

"Wargs. It is unusual to see them so far from the Misty Mountains. Their appearance is very troubling."

"Do you think Smeagol set them on us?" Severus asked.

"I do not know. It is not a possibility to be ignored." Aragorn's face suddenly became concerned. "You have been bitten."

Severus glanced down at his shoulder. His robes hid most of the damage. The rain was washing the blood away, so he could see, with no small amount of revulsion, the several deep holes the wolf's teeth had made. "It is nothing."

"We must clean it and close it before it become corrupted. Sit down." Severus ignored him, and pointed the wand at it. Clearing his mind, he began the incantation. He said it three times, and ignored Aragorn's look of astonishment as the wounds closed up leaving only a series of ugly scabs behind.

Aragorn was staring at him with undisguised greed. Severus allowed himself a smirk. "If you have any herbs that will prevent infection, they would be useful. The magic only heals trauma."

"Your abilities go beyond anything I had imagined, friend," Aragorn said in awe. "To heal wounds in such a manner..."

"I come from a very different place," Severus said simply. "You are unharmed?"

Aragorn nodded as he began to sort through his pack. He pulling out a small plant and broke off several leaves and began applying them to Severus' shoulder. "Athelas it is called. I do not know if it will prevent corruption, but it is the only method we possess."

Severus would definitely need to be on the lookout for potions ingredients. It would not do to be succumb a common muggle illness or infection that was easily fixed with a basic brew. Severus was more familiar with muggle culture than most half-bloods, but even he had been mostly isolated from it, if only by his own choice. Most of what he knew had come second hand from Lily.

The plant stung as Aragorn applied it. Severus did not know whether it was because he was corrupted by darkness or if it was normal, but the man said nothing. "I am known as a healer," Aragorn said. "It makes me envious to see your abilities."

"I only know the most basic of healing charms," Severus admitted. "A trained healer would can heal all but the worst Dark Magic."

"Your abilities would be desired by all men," Aragorn said. "Even the elves cannot do such things, though I do not know if you could heal their like."

"Let's hope I don't need to use them anymore on our journey."

"Indeed. I feel that we should make haste to the river. We do not want to risk such an encounter again." Severus did not like the idea of staying up all day and not getting any sleep. He was tired, and his arms now ached as his legs had before from all the climbing he had been doing.

"How far is it?"

"No more than a full day at a slow run." Severus really wished he had a pepper up potion. He hadn't run more than a hundred yards in... never.

What was a slow run for Aragorn was unbearable for Severus, and he felt himself flushing in humiliation as the taller man was forced to slow down so that he could keep up without gasping for breath. He cursed his old brainy vs brawny mantra; it would have been so much easier had he tried to be both.

The hills became ever gentler, and trees began to appear. They grew larger and more numerous as they continued on. The rain had stopped, and the clouds began to retreat. Severus could tell that it was the middle of winter because the branches were all bare. He could also tell that they were far south of Scotland because there was no snow, and the air never went below freezing.

They did not speak except when they rested to take a bite of their elven bread, and Severus checked his shoulder. As night began to approach, and the trees grew thicker, they began to hear howling. It was distant at first, but they could not help but share uneasy glances.

It was as the sun dipped below the trees that they heard the shrieks of terror. They both recognized the voice instantly.

"He's been following us," Severus said coldly.

"He is in danger," Aragorn said. "We must help him."

"Help him?" Severus cried. "He's been following us, Aragorn! He plans to kill us in our sleep!"

"I do not think so," Aragorn said. "It is possible that the wargs were chasing him, not us. Why else would there have only been three who attacked us?"

"You think he actually escaped from Mordor?"

"I do not know, but it is a possibility. We must help him." Aragorn looked ready to bolt off at that instant. Severus knew without a doubt which Hogwarts house the man would have been sorted into.

"I won't help him," Severus said coolly. "You can run off and get yourself killed if you want."

Aragorn did not hide his disappointment. "You may stay here and cower." Severus glared resentfully after him as he ran off, hand on his sword, into danger.

Severus had no intention of helping Smeagol, but he would not leave Aragorn to his own devices, whatever the man's harsh words. He lifted off into the air as soon as the man was out of sight, and flew above the trees. The damnable wolves were howling, but it seemed to come from all directions. He flew in the direction Aragorn had went.

It was Smeagol that Severus eventually spotted. He was clinging spider-like to the upper branches of a tree. Three over-sized wolves circled below, and a fourth, smaller one was slowly climbing its way toward him. Severus aimed a slashing curse at it, but it missed at the large distance. The wolf's jaws closed around Smeagol's leg, and the creature was flung downward onto the ground. Severus' second slashing curse went true, and the wolf let out a yelp. Severus landed a distance away and began to sprint toward the battle.

Aragorn was already there, Smeagol cringing at his feet, as he faced the four monstrous animals. Severus crept closer as one took a tentative lunge, and was met with a nasty stab wound to the shoulder for its trouble. Aragorn had that look of determination that all warriors had when engaged in a life-or-death struggle.

Severus sent a slashing curse at the nearest wolf, and was satisfied to hear a terrified yelp. Aragorn hacked at the nearest wolf to him, but it danced away. Severus could see that Smeagol was injured, and there was blood running from the creature's thin leg. He continued to creep closer. Another slashing curse hit home, but the large wolves were very hardy, and Severus feared putting too much power into the curse lest he miss and strike Aragorn.

It was only too late that he realized what was happening. Smeagol sprang to his feet faster than he thought possible, a large stone held high. Severus could see the malice in the creature's eyes. Aragorn, too intent on his four foes, did not see.

"Aragorn! Behind you!" Severus shouted, but he was too far away, and Aragorn instead looked at him. The stone came down hard, and Severus saw crimson. Aragorn dropped to the ground. The wolves stood frozen, and Smeagol brought the rock down again.

"Sectumsempra!" Severus cried, and he saw a large wound open in the nearest wolf. They turned toward him, ignoring Aragorn's prone form, and then after the briefest of pauses, turned back toward Smeagol and Aragorn. It seemed Smeagol's treachery was not enough for them, because they lunged at him as one.

Severus sent slashing curse after slashing curse at them as Smeagol struggled desperately. The little wretch was his to exact vengeance upon, not theirs. The wolves howled in agony, and after a few too many strikes, their fur matted with cuts and blood, they turned tale and fled. Severus sent a blasting curse at the nearest one's back as it disappeared from sight, and was satisfied to hear one last yelp of surprised agony. Smeagol lay unmoving on the ground, but Severus cast a binding curse on him for good measure.

Aragorn looked up at him, his grey eyes wide, as Severus knelt beside him. Severus began to mutter the healing charm, his wand moving over Aragorn's mangled scalp. The man struggled for words, but none came out. He slumped back, and Severus knew it was too late.

Note: Poems are from canon Lord of the Rings.


	3. The Great River

"Crucio!" Severus hissed. Gollum's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Severus could only tolerate a few moments of its thrashing before he took pity and the curse ended. He could see tears running down it's pale, alien face. "I can do far worse than that," he said coldly. "Why did you kill him?"

He lifted the silencing charm, and Gollum began to sob quietly. Severus watched him silently. "Won't do it," Gollum hissed. "Can't make us, precious. No it can't!"

"Don't make me resort to less... clean methods," Severus said threateningly.

"Wicked, Dark master hurts us," Gollum wailed. "It will see, precious. We will make it see."

Severus pointed his wand at Gollum, and the creature cringed away in fear. Severus gave a nasty, twisted smile. "What would you prefer, Gollum? Spiders or snakes?"

"Why does it care, precious? Not is business. Not its problem."

"TELL ME!" Severus snarled. Gollum shot away in terror, and Severus cast a quick binding charm that caused Gollum to jerk to a halt with a shriek of outrage.

"What is the meaning of this?" cried a voice. Severus whirled around, and only feet away from him stood an old man cloaked in shabby gray robes. He had just glanced that direction moments ago - how the bloody hell had the man just appeared? Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Gollum was faster.

"He murdered him!" Gollum cried desperately. "He serves him! A servant of Darkness! He wants to take us to him - he wants the precious!"

"He's lying," Severus cried. "He killed him! He attacked him while Aragorn tried to defend him."

"Who are you?" the old man demanded, his voice cold. Severus felt his heckles rise at the mistrustful tone, and his own eyes narrowed.

"I could ask you the same question," Severus said. He knew that the man was almost certainly Gandalf. The tall, pointed grey hat and long robes were apparently wizard garb in every world. Gandalf had a long, grey beard much like Dumbledore, but Severus knew that to treat them as similar would be foolish.

"I am Gandalf," the man said, "Also known as Mithrandir. Who are you, and who is the man you've slain?"

"I didn't kill him," Severus growled. "The filthy little coward did."

"It's lying!" Gollum cried. "It murdered him! Don't let it hurt us!" Gollum had crawled toward Gandalf, and cringed pathetically at the old man's feet.

"Who are you?" Gandalf demanded again. "Why should I trust you? What is your name?"

"My name is Severus, and the man is Aragorn." Gandalf's old, wrinkled face twisted into an expression of complete horror, but his eyes remained fixed intently on Severus. "Gollum murdered him when he was attacked by wolves."

"Lier! It lies! It wants the precious!" Gollum cried out. The wretch was literally grovelling, and Gandalf seemed torn.

"I do not know of any Severus. Why were you with Aragorn? What do you know?" Severus frowned. He was not about to tell Gandalf all his secrets, especially not with a wand in hand.

"I owe you no explanation, old man. You can trust my word... or not." Severus held his wand lightly, an eyebrow raised.

"It would be wise to explain yourself," Gandalf said, and his voice was full of cold confidence. "Do not make me use force." Severus sneered and returned his own contemptuous gaze.

"I would give you the same advice," he said silkily. He gripped his wand tighter. Gandalf was eyeing it wearily.

Gandalf gripped his walking staff, and suddenly the crystal at the end burned brighter than Severus could have imagined, and he was forced to look away.

"You will come to me and surrender your weapon," the man said, but his voice had gained a strange menace. Severus felt an assault on his mind that was so overwhelming that all his careful mental training was stripped away in an instant. He obeyed Gandalf's command as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and only as he handed the wand over did he realize that he had made a gigantic mistake.

Severus watched helplessly as the wizard examined his wand with a careful eye. It took several moments for the magnitude of his situation to sink in. He was completely helpless without his wand. He could not fly nor Apparate, and wandless magic was almost useless even for a wizard as powerful as Severus.

"I see that you are unused to life in the wild. I will not bind you, but I will require you to obey all commands. Do you understand?" Severus nodded sullenly. "Good."

Severus stood by wearily as the wizard fastened Aragorn's limp body to his spare horse. He could see tears streaming down the old man's face. Severus was hardly happy himself that Aragorn had died, but he had only know the man for less than a week.

"You will walk. Do not expect me to keep a slow pace for you sake." Gandalf began fiddling with the reins of his own horse. Severus had never actually seen a horse in person, much less ridden one. A few vague memories of seeing them on the television when he was younger was all he had.

"You're making a big mistake," Severus ground out. Gandalf have him a look of deep contempt.

"You will either agree to answer my questions or you will remain silent. Lord Thranduil will see that you are judged fairly. Until such time you are my prisoner." Severus let out a cry of despair, and Gandalf turned away from him in disgust. Gollum shot him a brief, triumphant look before returning his expression to one of pathetic deference to his new "master". Gandalf climbed onto his animal, and with a kick the creature began to trot along at a slow pace. The other horse obediently ambled behind it. Soon after they set out Gollum came crawling toward Severus. He no longer cringed away at his look.

"Why is it so quiet?" Gollum asked, it's large eyes full of malice. "Doesn't like being a prisoner, does it, precious? Not him, no..."

Severus glared darkly at the wretch. It only seemed to spur the creature on.

"No wand it has, precious. Just a man now. Just a weak, soft man. Maybe we'll wring its neck when it sleeps?" Gollum have him a look of complete hatred before scrambling away into a nearby cluster of bare trees.

"Stay in my sight, Gollum," Gandalf said sharply. "Do not make me bind you." Gollum seemed to know that Gandalf was not to be ignored lightly because he obeyed without a mutter of complaint.

Severus walked on sullen silence behind the two horses and considered his options. Gandalf was a friend to a Aragorn. It made sense for Severus to trust him, but he held back. Gandalf was powerful, and unlike Aragorn he was capable of coercing and controlling Severus. To reveal his secrets to the wizard would be to put himself under his power, and Severus could not risk that. He would bide his time and recover his wand at the first opportunity.

They reached the broad, slow river only several hours after setting out. Gollum plunged into the water with a grateful cry, but Gandalf ordered him out.

"We is famished!" he wailed. "Nice fishes in the water, precious. Let us hunt!"

"You may hunt when we halt," Gandalf snapped. Gollum have a cringing, resentful look but followed the wizard's instructions.

They walked until late in the evening always staying close beside the river. Severus found that his injury was beginning to feel warm, and it tingled uncomfortably. He had never had a wound fester before, but he had the dreadful suspicion that he was about to find out what it was like. When Gandalf finally halted at dusk Severus risked a glance.

His entire shoulder had gone an angry red. It felt hot to the touch, and Severus himself was beginning to feel feverish.

"Curious," Gandalf said, his voice softer than Severus had heard it before. "That wound is healed." Severus allowed the old man to examine it. He was out of his element, and maybe the wizard would have some solution. "How did you come by it?"

"I was bitten," Severus said. Gandalf frowned.

"I cannot help you if you lie," he said coldly.

"Believe what you wish," Severus said mildly.

"I do not wish to see you die, but there is little I can do. I hope, for your sake, that you are stronger than you look." Severus sneered at him and turned away.

Severus spent the next week near delirious with fever. Gandalf applied more of the athelas leaves to the increasingly swollen and pus-filled wound regularly, and allowed him to ride his horse in his place. Severus briefly considered making an escape, but with his wand in Gandalf's possession he felt it would be a pointless move. Gandalf and Gollum both spent nearly an entire day just fishing when they reached a particularly fruitful stretch of the river. The fresh meat was hard to force down, but made Severus feel slightly better.

"You are not a normal man after all," Gandalf muttered slowly as he looked at Severus' shoulder once again. It was evening, and according to Gandalf they had been on the move for almost two weeks. The wound had finally seemed to dry up, and Severus felt his fever slowly retreating. "Such a fever would have killed even a Dunedain by now."

Severus mopped more sweat from his forehead. The water caught in his lengthening beard, and he shivered involuntarily. "Am I going to die?"

"I do not know."

"You are very helpful, old man," Severus said spitefully.

"Forgive me if I do not pity you," Gandalf said.

"Pity? How about justice?" Gandalf have him a look of deep contempt.

"I know your like," he said frostily. "You will keep your lying tongue to yourself. You are not nearly so clever as you think you are."

"Speak for yourself." Gandalf have him a withering look, but Severus just glared back at him insolently. "I now your type as well, old man. How many friends have you thrown by the wayside in your quest for the greater good, Gandalf the Gray?"

Gandalf laughed harshly at Severus. "I will not listen to the judgments of a coward and a murderer."

"You have no proof!" Severus spat. Gandalf's eyes bored into his own, and he was forced to raise his mental shields. The wizard did not seem able to read Severus' mind, but he was very perceptive.

"I have no proof that you have killed Aragorn... but you have killed before. Have you not?" Severus glared at the man hatefully.

"How many have you murdered, Gandalf?" Severus asked. "How many have you sacrificed?"

They glared at each other in contemptuous contemplation for several moments. Severus seethed silently. He was going to show Gandalf when he regained his wand. The old fool would see then.

They came upon a tributary river. Severus forced himself to sit up and pay attention when he realized that Gandalf was speaking to somebody. This was very strange, because so far they had met nobody. Gollum was cringing in terror beside Gandalf while the other man eyed it with distaste. Severus nudged his horse quietly forward, unable to stop himself from shivering in the cool night breeze. If his fever had done one thing, it had given him the opportunity to learn rudimentary horse-riding skills, which he suspected would come in useful.

"This is grave news," the other said. He was tall and blond, with impossibly perfect and graceful features. Severus knew immediately that he was an elf. He wore a plane, grey cloak and he had Aragorn's body slung atop his own horse. Severus was able, with some difficulty, to preform a slight hearing enhancement charm.

"I cannot express my grief strongly enough, Gandalf," the man said, but his voice was cool as if unperturbed.

"Sauron must not be made aware." Gandalf's voice was urgent. Through fever-strained eyes he saw the man nod curtly.

"Is there another?" Gandalf leaned wearily on his staff.

"No, he was the last." The words seemed forced from the old man's throat against his will. "The line of kings has ended." The elf was much less perturbed, but Severus caught the briefest flicker of emotion at the pronouncement.

"What of your companion?"

"I do not know his nature. I am taking him to Mirkwood with Gollum." Gandalf's tone was neutral. Severus was glad for it, because it would mean one less enemy prejudiced against him when he finally escaped.

"You bring worrying news, Gandalf. Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel will surely wish to meet, and Saruman should be informed."

"I shall make all haste to return once my business is complete. Do not fear overmuch, Haldir, for the Enemy still lacks that which he desires most."

"Your words gladden me, Gandalf." Severus was no longer able to keep his eyes open, and he drifted back into a fevered slumber.

Eventually the sickness faded, and Severus realized that he was going to survive. Gandalf, who had been somewhat patient with him during his illness, once again became cold and harsh, and he seemed intent on making up for lost time. The trip up the Anduin was mostly uneventful. The air remained cool, the approaching spring being countered by the northern travel. They came at last to the old, ruined bridge that led from the old forest road to the Misty Mountains.

"We will camp here for the rest of the day," Gandalf said to his two prisoners. "We will be passing into the territory of the Beornlings soon, and it would be better that we did not surprise them."

"Will they be a problem?" Severus asked mildly. Gandalf frowned at him.

"Not for me," he said.

It wasn't until the next morning that they were approached. The man who came reminded Severus greatly of Hagrid, with long, shaggy black hair and a massive girth, but Severus could tell that the man was no lovable oaf, and he had a hard, stern look to him.

"Gandalf," he boomed. "What brings you to this land?"

"I'm looking to pass to the eleven road," Gandalf said. "I have business with the Elf King."

"We shall see you there, friend," the man said. "Your companions?"

Severus looked up at the man wearily.

"Gollum," Gandalf nodded to the murderer, "is my captive. He," Gandalf nodded to Severus, "is my companion. An emissary from the east. He is unused to the land, and has fallen ill."

"What is his name?" the giant man asked, a shrewd look on his face. Severus realized that it was he who should answer.

"I am Severus, son of Tobias," he said wearily. The man nodded, and let out a chuckle.

"I have met elves and dwarves and halflings, and yet I see there is still much of the world I do not know. Well met, Severus. My name is Grimbeorn, and Beorn was my father."

"You will stay close to me," Gandalf hissed into his ear while the man and several warriors who had arrived after corralled a hissing and muttering Gollum away. Severus could not deny that he was grateful that the man was not subjecting him to the same treatment.

"What will happen to him?" Severus asked. Much as he hated Gollum, he preferred to keep the wretched murderer as close as possible to himself. He, like the creature itself, would bide his time until revenge could be exacted.

"They will take him by a secure road to our destination."

"Why didn't you do the same for me?" Severus asked. Gandalf have him a sharp look.

"Gollum is cunning and quick. You are not. You would not make it far before you were apprehended." Severus scowled bitterly.

"Aragorn told me of your kindness. I see that it is very much... selective." Severus did not particularly care that Gandalf despised him - the feeling was entirely mutual - but he would never miss an opportunity to call the self-righteous on their own failures.

"Do not attempt to manipulate me," Gandalf said loudly. "I know your kind. You use words as a weapon to hide the cowardice and wickedness within." Severus saw his wand poking out from one of Gandalf's sleeves. He was very tempted to lunge for it and find out if the Killing Curse could kill an immortal.

"And you do not?" Severus asked mildly. Gandalf ignored him and turned toward Grimbeorn. The large man had finished conferring with his more normal-sized guardsmen.

"Come then, my guests," Grimbeorn boomed. "You are free to pass through. We will provide you with food and drink enough to get you to the Elven King's halls."

"Your generosity will not be forgotten," Gandalf said warmly. Severus seethed silently as the large man led them onward along the rover.

They broke off from the river soon after, and began to travel northeast along rolling, grassy hills. Severus saw no sign at all that anybody occupied the realm they were passing through. Gandalf spoke to the man in a low voice ahead of Severus, and it was clear their conversation was not one he was to be privy to. A pity for Gandalf that he already knew his secrets. His fever had almost faded completely, and feeling was returning to his shoulder and arm. He was cold and he longed for his wand. Now that his sickness was finally lessening, he began to plot how he would recover it from the other wizard.

"You are from the east?" said a voice, and Severus looked up to see that Grimbeorn had slowed to match his pace. Gandalf was still ahead, but closer now.

"Yes."

"We hear little of those lands here." Severus chanced a look up at the man. He did not seem overly suspicious, only weary.

"There is little to tell. I come from a small village."

"Is that so?" Severus could detect a faint coldness now. He lowered his head to be level with Severus and stopped. "You have an ill look about you, stranger. I do not trust you. If you attempt to stray from Gandalf and cause mischief, be sure you know that it will not end well."

Severus seethed silently, and forced himself to remain silent. He felt that anything he said would only make his situation worse.

"Do you understand?" Severus met the man's eyes, a cold expression on his face.

"Yes."

The large man did not spare him another glance for the rest of their journey. It only took two days to reach the Forest Gate. It was a gate in truth, but a series of ivy covered trees that met at the top to form an arch. Beyond it was a narrow, well-kept path that wound out of sight in the distance.

"I will leave you now, Gandalf," Grimbeorn said. "The elves have agreed to take your prisoner." Severus could see the flicker of relief in the wizard's face. The large man gave them salted meat and dried fruit to get them through the final days of their journey, and Severus could not pretend he was not grateful for it. Gandalf turned to him as they began to ride into the forest.

"Lord Thranduil is a very proud and ancient ruler. You would do well to show him complete deference. He does not tolerate disobedience." Severus glared insolently at Gandalf.

"I have nothing to say to him," Severus said coolly.

"Then you will be our guest for a very long time," Gandalf said. "If you are innocent as you say, then you will tell me why you were there. What was your purpose? Whom do you serve?"

"Myself." Gandalf nodded.

"As you wish. I will tell Lord Thranduil that an audience will not be needed. You are lucky I took you to Mirkwood, and not Minas Tirith. The people there are fond of Thorongil, and Lord Denethor is a very practical man." Severus understood that to mean that Denethor would see Severus executed whether guilty or not to appease the people. He was reminded of the old Ministry of Magic's desperate attempts to fight Voldemort, and realized that Aragorn had not been exaggerating when he had said that Gondor was in very dire straights.

"I'm right in assuming that I will not be going free?"

"We have no evidence to prove your guilt, likely as it may be, but your unknown powers and intentions are a threat too great to ignore. Until such time as you feel it prudent to share your purpose with us, you will remain a prisoner."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "The Elven King has already agreed to this?"

"How Thranduil chooses to treat you is entirely up to him and yourself. I would suggest that you avoid unnecessarily angering him."

"And my wand?" Severus asked pointedly.

"That will remain with me."

"Is there nothing I can do to convince you of my good intentions?" Gandalf looked at him for a long moment.

"Tell me what you know, and I will decide whether I am willing to trust."

"You ask too much."

"Then you will enjoy Lord Thranduil's hospitality."

Severus really wished he had his wand. "What did you do with Aragorn's body?"

Gandalf glared at him. "I do not see what business that is of yours."

"He was a friend to me," Severus said. Gandalf raised a bushy grey eyebrow. "I just wanted to know."

"He has been sent through the Golden Wood. He will be buried in Rivendell, where he was raised." Gandalf looked at him shrewdly. "He told you much before you betrayed him."

"He was willing to trust me. It's a shame you lack your friend's decent nature."

"It was your treachery, not his trust, that doomed him." Gandalf's arrogant, self-righteous tone made Severus long for the day he could curse the so-called wizard. "I know your nature. I have met one such as you before. A weak, cowardly man who envies those better than himself. Who wallows in bitterness when he is denied that which he does not deserve. You think you love, but it is only a greedy shadow you feel. You think that by possessing that which you desire, it will make up for your own darkness."

"You dare!" Severus felt his anger boiling over. How could the wizard know such things about him?

"Be silent," Gandalf snapped. "Do you dispute my words?"

"You know nothing of me!"

"Your anger gives the lie to your denials. Tell me, was it you who killed her?" Severus gnashed his teeth. "You are as I say you are." Gandalf turned away from him with a look of deep disdain.

"You'll see!" Severus snarled, his emotions overpowering his reason in his anger. "You'll regret this!"

"Indeed?" Gandalf's tone was mocking. Severus forced himself to calm down.

Severus decided right there and then that Gandalf would forever be his enemy. He seethed silently for three days as they journeyed deeper into the forest. Gandalf have him cool looks whenever he refused to speak, but did not comment otherwise. They crossed a small river that Gandalf warned him not to drink from, but otherwise the journey was uneventful. Severus felt he could see many eyes watching him along some parts, but whatever evil creatures lurked in the trees did not disturb them. It was as the third day ended, and Gandalf met the first party of elf scouts that Severus finally saw his chance to strike.

Gandalf was speaking to three of them in a strange but oddly pleasing language. Severus crept behind a large, stout tree. He sat himself down, and forced himself to focus.

The beast's instincts served him well. It had self-awareness enough to know that the elves carried sharp, quick bows that could pierce his flash. He crept along slowly, his head bowed. His black fur hid him well in the deepening twilight and the shade of the trees.

The horses stirred slightly as he crept past them. It took only moments for Gandalf to notice Severus' absence, and he raised the alarm. Severus galloped a good distance before halting, and transformed back into himself. The beast's hearing was far superior to his own, but its mind was not capable of planning and strategy.

He could not risk movement as the animal. He risked being hunted by the elves, and if what Aragorn had told him was true of their skills with the bow, he would not stand a chance. He settled down next to the tree and nestled himself between two large roots, his black eyes scanning the surrounding area.

He forced himself to focus. He allowed every distraction to fade away, and he began to channel his magic. Disillusionment was a complex charm even with a wand, and without one it would require almost perfect focus. He felt the familiar trickling sensation coming down his long, unruly hair. He settled down and prepared to wait. The elves would see him immediately if he moved, but so long as he stayed perfectly still they would pass him by.

It was near a day before the first elf passed Severus by, its bow at the ready and its long, elegant sword close at hand. Its pale eyes scanned the area, and Severus could swear they flicked straight at him twice, but it soon passed by.

Three days and four more elves later, and Gandalf finally came. He was accompanied by only one elf. It was raining, and Severus, cold and miserable, his stomach growling, had to force himself to transform. Severus did not become a large, magnificent stag like Potter's patronus, but he had never minded. His particular subspecies of buck was quicker and more graceful, and it had served him well as a spy.

He bolted rapidly through the trees. He heard a thrum as the elf let loose a bow. The beast panicked momentarily, overstepping his planned destination, before transforming back. The elf was in quick pursuit, but the density of the wood forced him to go on foot. Gandalf remained behind.

Severus crept around rapidly to the other side of the wizard as the elf searched in earnest, a wandless muffling charm masking his movements.

He transformed back while behind the wizard, and began to slowly creep toward him. The beast considered its actions oddly. Why was it acting as a hunter? It was supposed to flee, not stalk!

Severus transformed only feet from Gandalf's snorting horse, hiding behind a tree. He chanced a quick look, saw nothing. He chanced another, and his eyes chanced upon the unmistakable tip of his wand. His disillusionment charm had worn off completely after his second transformation, so instead he lunged forward.

Gandalf's reflexes were stunningly fast, but not enough. Severus pulled the wand from his robe and away just as Gandalf's long, thin sword swept in an arc down through where his fingers had only been moments before. Severus danced away as the horse reeled in the sudden movement.

Gandalf's staff flared blinding, but this time Severus was prepared. His shield charm halted the wizard's mental assault. Severus cast a quick disarming spell, but Gandalf deflected it, his long, gnarled staff shuddering between his arms. Severus gave ground, but the wizard advanced.

Severus turned in his feet to Apparate, but nothing happened, and he stifled the urge to panic. Gandalf sent another spell and he desperately blocked it. He considered flying briefly, but realized that the elf archer would shoot him down very quickly in the air.

The first arrow thrummed past Severus, deflected away from his chest by a burst of accidental magic. He would need to use transfiguration magic to survive, but he was not nearly so proficient as Dumbledore or the Dark Lord.

He stepped back, moving his wand in a complex series of motions, and the two large trees in front of him bent down and closed ranks, the bark snapping and shredding. Severus jabbed his wand, and with a startling crack the trunk of the first snapped, and tumbled down. A horrifying shriek of pain from the horse gave Severus some hope, but the elven archer darted from behind the twisted mess just as the second tree fell.

Severus shot a disarming charm at the elf. The bow was flung away from his arms, and he let out a startled cry. The elf pulled out his sword and advanced on Severus. Severus would have flown away, but possessing the advantage, he did not want his ability revealed. He briefly entertain killing the elf, but to do so would make him an enemy of Mirkwood, and he had no intention of making more enemies than he needed to.

"Yield to me," Severus said. The elf looked at him blankly, clearly unable to understand the common tongue.

"No yield. To Lord Thranduil."

"You may escort me to Lord Thranduil," Severus said. "As a guest."

"No. Prisoner."

A quick jab of his wand and the elf's sword arced through the air and landed at Severus' feet.

"Guest."

"I am afraid not, wizard," said a voice. "Father has instructed me to take you prisoner, and that is what you will be."

Severus turned around wearily to see several bows pointing at him. The one who had spoken, a tall, silver-haired elf with grey eyes regarded Severus coolly. Severus sneered at him. "The hospitality of the elves is truly remarkable."

"Your taunts do not endear you to us, Dark one," the elf said.

"Nor do yours," Severus replied mildly. "You will either allow me to meet your ruler with a wand in hand... or you will be destroyed."

"Legolas!" cried a voice, and Severus turned to see Gandalf standing, unharmed, a large amount of blood staining his grey robes. Severus felt a pang of regret for having killed the animal needlessly, but pushed it aside. "You come at the moment of need."

Severus eyed his opponents wearily. Legolas was accompanied by four elves. Gandalf stood behind him, and the unarmed elf was slowly backing away. Severus could cast an explosion curse and scatter the bowmen, but that would leave him vulnerable to Gandalf. Attacking Gandalf would turn him into a pincushion. Forcing himself to maintain a neutral expression and seething silently, he dropped his wand to the ground.

"A wise choice," Gandalf said.

Legolas and his companions quickly rushed at him, binding him swiftly with painful elven ropes and throwing a bag over his head. Severus kept silent and stoic. With a rough tug of his arm he found himself being led through twisted and gnarled roots back toward the elven road. He knew his plan had been a long shot, but he could not stop himself from being disappointed. The elven magic of the forest seemed to prevent him from Disapparating, and that was a complication he could not have foreseen. He would bide his time once again. He would escape, and nothing would stop his revenge when he did.


	4. The Woodland Realm

Severus glanced around quickly as the sack was pulled from his head. He was in a large, columned cavern. At one end stood a great, open doorway, and at the other a dais held a slender wooden throne upon which sat a tall, thin elf with blond hair and a face somehow both ancient and youthful. Thranduil looked much like his son Legolas, but he was stockier, by elf standards, and his face held a sternness that was lacking in his son.

Severus stared up at the Elven King meekly. Long years grovelling at the Dark Lord's feet had taught him how to placate and flatter, and he could only hope that Lord Thranduil was a far more reasonable ruler than Lord Voldemort.

"Severus, son of Tobias. I welcome you to the Woodland Realm."

"Your majesty," Severus murmured, and he bowed low, his long, dirty hair falling over his face as he did so. Thranduil looked down at him strangely, but none of the elves laughed or gave any indication of amusement.

"Odd courtesy, but courtesy nonetheless. Perhaps Gandalf has misjudged you." Severus stood up straight. "What should I do with you, Severus?"

"Whatever you wish, my Lord," he said meekly.

"You know what I wish," Thranduil said coolly. "Why do you not offer it?" Severus remained silent, and did not meet the ruler's eyes. "I cannot give you leave to wander my halls - not with the suspicions that surround you, nor with your unknown powers. I am sorry, Severus."

"I will remember your trust and generosity," Severus said coldly. The King ignored him.

"Take him to a cell. See that he is given every comfort." Severus allowed two tall elves to lead him gently away from the King.

Severus was led from the great cavern upward into a smaller cavern that branched off several times. His cell was comfortable. It was smaller than his quarters at Hogwarts or his house at Spinner's End, but it was well furnished. Books and scrolls lined a small shelf, a large fireplace was already lit, and ink and parchment were laid out on a small desk. There was a barrel of water in the corner, and a large bed. There was no electricity, but he saw a small pot full of candles and several curious flint and steel contraptions for creating sparks.

The elves gave him food to eat; meat and fish and fresh fruit, and even wine and ale. They granted him daily escorts above ground to see the sun, and even sent a tutor every day to instruct him in Sindarin, their language. Severus took advantage of every kindness, but none of it quelled the seething rage he felt at his captivity and at their implied mistrust.

Gandalf visited him daily for a week. Severus ignored the wizard save to politely ask for his wand to be returned. Only on the sixth day, when the wizard informed him that he was leaving Mirkwood, did Severus deign to speak to him.

"I am taking your staff with me," Gandalf said. Severus spluttered in outrage. "You expect me to trust you after what you did?"

"I will go with you. I'll help you - anything!" Severus pleaded. Gandalf looked at him strangely.

"Tell me what you know, and I would be glad for it." Severus sneered.

"You have no right! My secrets are my own." Gandalf sighed wearily.

"Severus... Aragorn was my friend... my closest friend in all my long years on Middle-Earth. I cannot allow the man who may have murdered him to go free. I am sorry." Severus was surprised at the genuineness in the old man's voice, but it did nothing to quell his own hatred and bitterness.

"You'll regret this. You have no idea what I'm capable of!" Gandalf gave him a cold look before stepping through the heavy wooden door of his cell.

Severus counted every day. The trees once again began to grow leaves, and the air grew warmer. The rays of sunlight that poked down through the canopy were getting brighter, and more and more birds began to make themselves heard. Spring was coming, and even Severus could not deny that he was gladdened by it. The elves had fashioned a curious ventilation system that sent heat throughout the cave system, but it could not quickly respond to great changes in temperature, and Severus often found himself shivering or sweating in his cell.

He could not deny that he was greatly impressed by the elves and their society and craftsmanship. Everything they built, from the loo to the king's chamber, was very beautiful. He could sense the subtle magic that permeated the place, and he found himself unable to penetrate the minds of elves passively. They were kind, both to each other and himself, and he never saw them come in conflict with each other. Their coolness and passive superiority were less pleasant, and Severus quickly found himself bitterly resenting them. He doubted even their trust would soothe his envy.

It was nearly a month after Gandalf's departure that Severus was brought before the King once again. It was midday in late March, and sunlight fell down like angled beams along the central path of the great cavern as Severus was led down it. He squinted his dark eyes up at the King, who regarded him wearily.

"The guards have taken to calling you Engwar." The King looked down at Severus expectantly.

"I have not been instructed in Quenya yet, my Lord," Severus admitted.

"It is for the best, for the term is unkind. I discourage it where I can, but I am afraid that it has taken hold."

Severus narrowed his eyes, and he felt a familiar sense of humiliation and rage rising in his chest. "I did not realize that elves possessed the maturity of schoolchildren," he said snidely.

The King narrowed his eyes, but ignored Severus' comment. "How fares your Sindarin? Idhrenor tells me you have been single-minded."

"I have little else to amuse me," Severus said slowly.

"I do hope that your situation is bearable."

"It is as bearable as being confined against my will can be." Thranduil smiled coldly.

"I am a king. It is my duty to protect my people and serve their interests, even at the expense of kindness and courtesy." Severus forced himself not to scoff derisively.

"What about justice?"

"You have high ideals for one steeped in Darkness."

"Self-righteous posturing will not win any wars," Severus said smoothly. The Elf King's eyes narrowed at him.

"War? What war do you speak of?" Severus smiled widely. He knew it was unwise to goad the ruler, but he was too angry.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Do not play games with me!" the King snarled. Severus regarded him coolly.

"I had no intention of doing so, my Lord."

Thranduil gave a curt gesture to his guards, and Severus was led, more roughly than usual, back to his cell.

It was only another week before he was dragged before his captor again, but the trees were once again cloaked in green, and very little sunlight fell through the canopy anymore. Severus followed his Sindarin instructor, Idhrenor, as he was escorted by his two permanent guards toward the throne once again.

"How many elves live here?" Severus asked. Idhrenor laughed heartily.

"You know I cannot reveal such a thing."

"Why don't elves rule the world, if they are immortal?"

"You are full of questions today."

"You are full of answers." Idhrenor laughed again. "Why does the King wish to see me again?"

"Lord Thranduil hopes that you will trust him."

"I trust him every bit as much as he trusts me."

"You should not continue to spurn his kindness." Severus sneered at the back of his tutor's head. The elf was always polite to him, but he was also terse and unwilling to open up. Severus found himself disliking him more than his guards, who at least were open about their disdain toward him.

"My Lord," Severus said, and he took a mocking bow. Thranduil regarded him wearily. "What can I do for you?"

"Your presence is always a comfort to me, Severus," the King replied mildly, his own mocking tone hidden behind cool courtesy. "I would like to come to an understanding."

"As would I."

"That is good! Idhrenor often tells of your great curiosity. Perhaps we could exchange information?" Severus regarded Thranduil shrewdly.

"You know what I want, my Lord. Will you give me that?" Thranduil said nothing for a long time.

"That will depend on what is learned." Severus sneered.

"Unacceptable. Try again." Thranduil's pale eyes widened slightly, and Severus could hear his guards shift uncomfortably.

"You will not speak so to me again, Severus," the King said, his voice stern and menacing. Severus smarted under the threat, but he did as he was bid, and settled for an insolent glare instead.

"I merely wish to express my disappointment, my Lord. I could be a powerful ally, and I wouldn't forget those who were... generous to me." Thranduil frowned.

"What aid would you provide my Kingdom, Severus, son of Tobias?"

"That would depend on your need, and my desire to provide it."

"How can I judge your value if you will not reveal it?"

"Trust." Thranduil looked at Severus for a long time, and Severus glared back. He forced himself to hold the elf's gaze.

"Trust? You have not earned such." Severus sneered once again, his lip curling in disgust.

"You will not bully me, Thranduil, son of Oropher," Severus snarled. "You will get nothing from me unless I choose to provide it."

"Our guest has grown tired of his accommodations," Thranduil said, his voice neutral. "Move him down to the lower cells so that he may be more at home."

Severus cursed bitterly, feeling once again like a helpless teenager at the mercy of James Potter and Sirius Black as he was led away.

"You will speak, Severus," Thrnaduil called after him. His voice seemed to penetrate the cavern even though he did not raise it. "I do not care if I must wait a hundred years."

Severus' new accommodations were much less comfortable than his old. Elves, it seemed, were very much aware of and practiced in breaking a prisoner down for information. Severus wondered if Gollum was going through the same thing. The cell was dark, with only torchlight from the small window in the heavy iron door finding its way through. He was given a pile of straw to sleep on, a bucket to pass waste in, and nothing else.

He dreaded what he would be provided for food, but was relieved when, with a nonchalant cry of "Engwar!" a bowl of soup thick with chunks of meat and vegetables was pushed through. It was not particularly filling, but it was nourishing enough.

Time seemed to blend together in the dark cell. He was taken on walks outside only once every few days, and he found himself absurdly eager for them. It made him feel pathetic and broken, and he began to hate his captors more and more, even if he did understand their reasoning. Severus was no stranger to Machiavellian tactics, having served under both Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore. At the same bloody time.

For all his poor circumstances, he still felt better than he had in decades. He would, one day, obtain his wand. He would be alone, perhaps, and his bitter memories of his one chance at love would continue to haunt him, but at least he would be free, and in control of his own life. He had come to realize that it wasn't calling Lily a mudblood that was the worst moment of his life. No, it was the day he had bent his knees and kissed the hem of Lord Voldemort's robes, and the Dark Lord had branded him, and Severus had willingly accepted the life of servitude.

Was that his Hell? To serve forever and ever, only moving from one master to a next?

It was mid-May when the King finally summoned Severus again. He noted that his sallow skin had gone pale. His long hair had grown longer, and he had a lengthening beard with no wand to shave it. He suspected none of those things improved his overall appearance much.

Thranduil was not alone this time. Legolas, the elf who had captured Severus, stood at the foot of the dais. He eyes Severus distastefully.

"My father says much of you, Engwar," he said in a cool voice. Severus looked at him with an equally neutral expression.

"He says little of you, my Lord," Severus said mildly. "Not that he needs to."

"He is too kind to you, wretch."

"I am afraid that Severus' manners are unreliable," Thranduil said, a warning glance at his son. "He feels he is owed much."

"I only ask for justice, my Lord. Justice and trust."

"Those things are alien to you," Legolas said, but his father once again contradicted him.

"You shall have it, Severus, son of Tobias," said the King gently. Severus had participated in more than one interrogation, both at the Ministry and as a servant of the Dark Lord. He knew their game, but he would play along.

"You know what I want."

"Foolish requests become no less foolish for being repeated," Thranduil said.

"I did not kill Aragorn. Gollum did."

"I would believe it of any other man," Thranduil said, "but one so mighty as him? No, it is not possible." Severus couldn't help himself. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh that echoed throughout the chamber.

"Be silent, Engwar!" Legolas shouted. "You embarrass yourself!"

"No," Severus said, regaining his composure. "You embarrass yourselves. Treachery can destroy even the worthiest person."

"Treachery requires trust, Severus," the King said. "Nobody would be fool enough to trust such a creature."

"Nor you," Legolas added.

"Gollum took his chance while Aragorn defended his life," Severus said. "He struck him while Aragorn was defending him."

"Why would he do such a thing?" the King asked.

"I don't know," Severus said, and he was completely honest. Perhaps Gollum hoped that the wolves would spare him. Perhaps the wretched creature knew that Severus would save him, if only to exact revenge.

"You're lying," Legolas said. "Bring him out."

Severus' eyes widened as Gollum was dragged out by two guards. He hissed and wailed and made a scene like he always did, and Severus did not bother to hide his look of deep contempt. "Cruel elveses, they hurts us!"

"Gollum!" Thranduil said coldly. The creature's struggling stopped, and it looked up at the King with fear in its eyes. "You will be silent."

Legolas, however, approached the creature and spoke to it gently. It looked apprehensively at the elf before turning toward Severus and extending a pale finger in accusation.

"He did it! It was him. He murdered him - he called the wolves. He tried to frame us, precious! He framed us!" Severus was prevented from lunging at it by his two guards, their spearheads glinting in the corner of his eyes.

"So you see," Legolas said coolly. "He tells the same story. Why should you be believed, Engwar?"

"What would I gain from it? Why would I allow Gandalf to capture me?" Legolas nodded gently to Gollum, and Severus seethed.

"He works for him. He is a servant of the Eye!"

"You have no proof!" Severus hissed.

"Indeed. What proof would you offer us?" Thranduil asked, his cool eyes making Gollum cringe in terror.

"We saw him! We saw him in the Dark Tower, precious. He is one of them." Severus did lunge forward this time, but was brought back by two firm hands on his shoulders.

"Liar! Filthy little liar!" Severus snarled, and he felt a rush of satisfaction as Gollum flinched back from the venom in his tone.

"Yet he tells us his secrets, while you do not," Thranduil said coolly."

He cannot control himself, Father," Legolas said mildly. Severus felt his chest tightening at the farce of a hearing he was being given, and realized that it would accomplish nothing.

"Return me to my cell," Severus said, his voice bitter.

"Do not be hasty, Severus. We can resolve this." Thranduil's tone was gentle, and it only made Severus angrier.

"No, Father. I think he has decided," Severus sneered at the younger elf.

"Your worthless child is correct, my Lord. I have nothing more to say."

"Very well, Severus. I shall trouble you no more." The King's tone was of resigned finality.

Severus barely paid attention as he was brought back to his cell. It stank, and he shivered in the cool, damp air as he sat down on the floor against the left wall, his eyes fixed on the one source of dim torchlight.

Thranduil made good on his threat, and Severus could no longer count the days he spent in his cell. He was no longer permitted to go on walks, and he could swear that the soup he was given grew thinner and thinner every day. It was given at irregular intervals, and Severus often found himself roused from sleep to receive it. The elves were inching closer and closer to outright torture and coercion, and Severus wondered wearily how far they would go. Aragorn had spoken highly of them, but Severus knew that the worst crimes could be justified by the most self-righteous when war was used as an excuse.

It was a brilliant, sunny day in early July when Severus was once again taken to see the King of the Woodland Realm. He had grown thinner, and he found it difficult to walk. He knew that long months spend sitting had weakened him greatly, and he wondered bitterly if that had been intentional.

"Your secrets will not be yours much longer, Severus," Thranduil said. Severus glared at the King insolently. "The Lady of the Golden Wood has chosen to visit us." Severus paled at that. Aragorn had told him much of Galadrial. She was the most powerful elf in Middle-Earth, and possessed powers that rivaled those of the wizards. Worst of all, she could see into the minds of others. "This news distresses you?" Thranduil cocked an eyebrow at Severus' obvious discomfort.

"You resort to coercion... The hospitality of the elves continues to astonish me," Severus said. Thranduil's face betrayed his irritation momentarily.

"You take it for granted, Severus," the King said coolly. "I will not be spoken to as such."

"I fail to see how I owe you anything," Severus snapped.

"It grieves me to be so antagonistic," Thranduil said, his voice gaining an edge of humility. "You have been here many months, and I have deemed it unlikely that you were the one who slew Aragorn."

"So you believe my innocence, but refuse to act on it." Thranduil let out a great laugh.

"Sauron fooled those far greater than I. I am sorry, Severus, but you know that cannot be."

"You flatter me, my Lord. I am but a worthless, pathetic mortal."

"You fool nobody. I have been patient with you, Severus, but my patience is at an end. When we speak next you shall reveal all that you know, whether you wish it or not. I apologize, but this I must do for the sake of my people, and all the free peoples, and any who oppose the Enemy in the East."

"What of my patience, Lord Thranduil?" Severus asked mildly, eyes narrowed.

"It is of no consequence," the King said coolly, pale eyes narrowing at the implied threat. "Take him to the top cell. I would have him presentable for our guests."

Severus felt mingled anger and relief as he was taken back to his original cell. He was reminded distinctly of his mother and father's attempts to make him presentable when the government officials would visit to ask why Severus was not attending muggle public school. They would give him extra food and would break out the special visitor clothing that he was allowed to wear only when he needed to look well-cared for.

Idhrenor came back the second day. Severus sneered at the elf and told him he was no longer interested in his lessons.

"You misunderstand, Severus," he said patiently. Idhrenor was always patient. It only made Severus hate him more. "Lord Thranduil intends to house you here permanently. He has seen that you will not break."

"That's supposed to make me feel any better?"

"The King must do what is needed to protect his subjects. If you had just cooperated, he would have -"

"Spare me!" Severus snarled. "Teach me your worthless language so I can use it against you at the first opportunity." Idhrenor laughed again.

"Do not be so bitter, Severus. It will not make your stay here any more tolerable."

"My stay here will end one day. When it does, I won't forget what has been done to me." Idhrenor looked at him coolly.

"What has been done to you? You have been treated well. You have been given food and drink enough to thrive. You have not been beaten or harmed or mistreated. Most mortals would envy your place."

"I'm not just some mortal..."

"Then why do you not escape? You are but a mortal without your staff, and I do not think you will see it again. Gandalf has surely destroyed it, for it is a work of evil." Severus went white, but quickly hid his distress at the idea.

"For all your self-righteous prattle, you elves are losing. Do you not realize this?"

Idhrenor chuckled gently. "Middle-Earth is no longer our concern. We sail west in numbers every year now. We aid the affairs of this land only out of fondness, not need."

Severus gave a contemptuous snort, but it was tinged with bitter resentment. What he wouldn't give to have such an option.

Severus spent the next several weeks brewing. Toads and newts were easy enough to come by during his daily walks outside. A quick wandless detection charm and he could grab and kill the creatures without his guards noticing. Rarer magical ingredients were harder to come by, and the brass basin that would serve as his cauldron was far from adequate, but it was enough to prepare a few simple but powerful potions during the night when nobody ever bothered to check on him.

Severus even collected several unknown native herbs. He found that many served as suitable substitutes for many magical ingredients and the hair from an elf served as a substitute for a unicorn horn. He was able to brew several batches of the common antidote potion after his request for several bezoars was granted with a raised eyebrow by his guard. He was also able to brew several batches of blood replenishing potion, burn salve, and several other healing potions, also with the use of elf hairs.

He was even granted a stroke of luck during one of his walks. As he trailed behind his guards toward the entrance to the cave system, he saw a group of elves on foot carrying between them a monstrous black shape. Severus' guard, overcome by his own curiosity, had allowed him to approach, and Severus saw that the elves' quarry was a very large, very ugly spider. It looked far more menacing and terrible than any acromantula, and Severus could feel the Dark magic pulsing through it.

It was easy to distract the elves with a wandless rustle of a nearby tree, and Severus quickly extracted several drops of venom. Quick experimentation revealed that the venom caused paralysis and drowsiness, and it was just the thing he needed. He hid the brewing Drought of Living Death under his bed, and the elves, completely unaware of potions, never thought to check. The vapors alone would be enough to cause unconsciousness in a dragon. After a tense week of brewing Severus bottled the potion in a special flask that would distribute the vapors over a wide area.

It was, like all Severus' plans so far, a long shot, but it was all he had.

It was late June when the attack came. Galadrial and her escort were still several days away, and it was a relief for Severus to have something to take his mind off of his mounting dread at the encounter. His guards continued to stand by, whispering to each other in Sindarin. Severus could make out none of their words, but the frantic nature told him that it was worrying.

"Come, Engwar," said the first guard, his eyes almost sympathetic. "We must take you lower."

"Lower?" Severus raised an eyebrow, unwilling to show how much he did not want to return to the basement.

"It is none of your concern. Come now." Severus obeyed silently. He could only hear silence as he was led down stairs, passing through the eerily empty throne room and down into the true dungeons. His guards led him into his old cell before locking him in and disappearing.

It was several hours later when Severus heard a voice that he hated more than any other in Middle-Earth.

"They put him down here, I know it," Gollum cried. Severus heard a whimper of pain and a faint, almost bestial growl. "We are telling the truth! He is! Come, come deeper, and you will see!"

Severus shrank back into the cell, letting his dark hair cover his face and pulling his hands into his dark robes, but it was for naught. Gollum's large eyes peered into the small opening in his cell door, and they found him instantly.

"Him!" Gollum shrieked.

He focused all his mental abilities at the creature, willing it to forget its desire, but he could feel the Darkness in its mind quickly seeking him out.

He watched helplessly as Gollum disappeared before returning while squat, sickly-skinned creatures peered at him through the hole at him. "It's him! He is the wizard. The Dark one..."

"What is your name?" asked the goblin in a harsh, guttural voice. It glared at him, eyes narrowed. "Answer me."

Severus stared at him coolly.

"You're sure?" the goblin asked Gollum, yanking on a long chain that was wrapped around the creature's neck and making it cry out in pain.

"We're sure! Its the wizard. The one he wants." Severus saw an involuntary shudder pass through Gollum.

"You want out or what?" the goblin asked. Severus realized that the goblins intended to take him with them whether he agreed or not. He was merely being offered the chance to come willingly. Severus met the creature's deformed red eyes and chanced a probe.

There was a dark presence inside its mine, but it was very faint, and Severus was able to close it off. The goblin's mind opened quickly, and Severus was flooded with a torrent of bitterness, hatred, and malice. It was a mind where the only thrill and joy to be had was in cruelty, and no thought of beauty or happiness existed.

It was a lot like Severus' own mind at certain points in his life.

He quickly learned of the plot to free Gollum. The Nazgul had directed a group of orcs from the Misty Mountains to attack the Woodland Realm in force, while the goblin, named Dargum, and his band snuck into the caves to find Severus and Gollum. Gollum was to be freed, while Severus was to be taken to Lugtau, which he quickly recognized as Dol Guldur, and presented to the Nazgul who kept it.

"I will come with you."

Dargum nodded curtly. Another, larger goblin approached, and with several swings of his axe, the heavy dungeon door banged open, and Severus stepped out into freedom at last.


	5. Mirkwood

The sun was setting as they made their way back up into the throne room. It was empty and eerily silent, and Severus could see beams of warm summer light crisscrossed along the far wall of the chamber. A small, sallow-skinned orc was perched on the throne was smearing some kind of reddish dye on it.

"Oi! Takhbork! What're you doing?" The small orc turned to face them, and Severus saw that half his face was scarred badly. Where the left eye should have been was an empty pit. Severus forced himself not to show any visible signs of revulsion.

Takhbork, for his part, did not hide his disdain when his own remaining eye found Severus. Thranduil's throne now bore its own fiery iris that glared down them.

"Thought we were after a man, not a halfy." Severus maintained a neutral expression as Dargum and the other four orcs nearby roared with laughter at this. He was tempted to retort, but he knew that words could easily lead to violence with their like.

"Not a pretty one, is he?" Dargum said with an evil grin, his pointed, crooked teeth visible. "The Sneak pointed him out straight away." Takhbork seemed to accept this. The small orc leaped down to the dais and joined the group as they made their way past the throne.

"In here," Gollum hissed. The Sneak, a name Severus found wholly appropriate, was cringing near a door just to the side that seemed to lead down a flight of stairs.

Severus hesitated to follow, but he was nudged roughly by Lagûrz, a thin orc who was missing his right foot and walked on a peg. "Move on, I'm bloody starving."

"You'll be starving a while if you think there's anything down here," said Anghâsh, the large, broad axe-wielding orc who had smashed Severus' cell door. "Just bread and green things, I reckon."

"Bullocks," spat Dargum. "They eat meat just the same as everyone else."

Dargum turned out to be correct, as Severus well knew. There was dried and salted meat aplenty in the cellar, and the orcs began gorging themselves almost immediately. Severus let them to it as he began to seek out any potion ingredients he could get his hands on. This was a rare opportunity and not one to be wasted. He made quick work of several barrels, and obtained several rare herbs, spices, and animal bits.

"What'cha doing?" asked Takhbork, his sly, malformed eye peering up at Severus suspiciously as Severus carefully pulled several herbs from a barrel.

"None of your concern," he said curtly. The orc let out a pig-like growl and made to move for his dagger, and Severus realized that the creatures were even touchier than he had feared. "That is not wise."

"I'll show you wise, you filthy tark," the orc spat. Severus could smell its diseased breath, somehow both cold and suffocating.

"Only one who'll be shown anything is you, Takhbork," Dargum snarled. "The tark is to be taken to the Boss alive."

"Aye," Takhbork said, "but he never said we couldn't have a bit of fun first."

The orc's fiery eyes turned challengingly toward Severus. Severus broke into his mind with ease, but he had no intention of leaning any secrets. The orc flinched back screaming and hissing in agony. Dargum looked down on him in disgust, and for a moment Severus thought the orc chieftain would pull out his scimitar and separate the small orc's head from its body, but it was not to be

"Told you to back off, you little worm," he growled. Takhbork looked between Severus and his captain resentfully, but seemed to think better of confrontation and backed away wearily. Dargum eyes Severus shrewdly. "Going to have to watch your back when you sleep now."

"I think I can handle it," Severus said smoothly. The orc captain glared at him a moment before he turned away as well. Severus returned his attention to the barrel before he was once again interrupted by one of his new companions.

"Find anything?" came the surprisingly high-pitched voice of Anghâsh. He peered at Serverus, his red eyes questioning. "You're not doing it right."

Anghâsh took the barrel Severus had been rooting through and lifted it above his head before throwing it on the wet, flooded ground with a crash. Severus stifled his frustration as much as possible but let out a frustrated snarl. "You have succeeded in destroying anything of value."

"Bad luck," the orc grunted unconcerned, and the other orcs stopped their pillaging just long enough to laugh maliciously. Severus ignored them.

"Right," Dargum crowed, his loud, guttural voice cutting through the chaos. "Time to move along. The elves won't be away forever."

"Whats the problem with that?" Kraibag shouted, his eyes narrowing in petulant insolence. He was the fifth orc that had come to break Severus and Gollum out, midway in size between Dargum and Takhbork and as ugly as both put together. "Maybe we'll get one of 'em. Elves make such good sport."

"No," Dargum said, his voice firm. "Too risky. We need to take the prisoner to the bosses, or it'll be all our heads."

"Where's the fun in that?" Kraibag shouted.

"Yeah," Takhbork said in agreement. "We've been working hard enough. A good bit of sport would do nicely, and since the tark isn't up for it..." The orc leered at Severus, who returned his own disdainful gaze.

"It's your fault," Kraibag cried. "You hadn't stuck the elf runt we might've taken him for fun."

"He tried to knife me!" Takhborn growled. "You like a knife in the gut? Maybe we'll find out." Kraibag let out a pig-like snarl and pulled his short dagger from its sheath. Severus watched wearily as the other three orcs in the room instantly stopped and turned to face the potential conflict.

"Nobody's putting a knife in any gut except me," Dargum growled, approaching the two combatants.

"Want me to take care of them, boss?" Lagûrz said, his voice eager and his lash half-way out of its case.

"Don't know," Dargun said as Kraibag and Takhbork looked between him and Lagûrz with fear evident in their red eyes. "Maybe we should. What do you lot think?"

Severus saw three pairs eager, cruel eyes narrowed in anticipation. "Perhaps we should leave now," he said.

"Shut up, prisoner," cried Lagûrz. "I'm tired to death of them bickering. A good lash will do them good."

"No," Gollum hissed, and six pairs of eyes fell on him. "We must go - must go now."

"Sneak's right," Dargun said. "Move out, slugs. The golug-hai will be back soon."

"Let them come!" Anghâsh said, a meaningful glance at his axe.

"You questioning me?" Dargun said dangerously.

"What if I am?" Anghâsh countered. Severus wondered idly how the orcs got anything at all done at all as Dargun pulled his blade and approached the big orc. "All right, all right!" he cried placatingly. Dargum have him a nasty glare, his eyes smouldering, before turning away in disgust.

They moved out after that. Severus spared a final morose glance at the inventory he had been unable to check as he was herded along with them. They grunted and growled to each other in their unpleasant, guttural language that he recognized as a blend of the Black Speech and the Westron.

"You need to learn to hold your tongue," said Dargum, who had fallen in step beside Severus as they passed through the throne room for what he dearly hoped would be the final time.

"You need to control your men better," Severus retorted. The orc glared up at him nastily before breaking into a harsh laugh.

"Got some guts, huh? You'll do well with the lads." Severus grimaced, reminded painfully of Mulciber and Avery and his time as an enthusiastic Death Eater. Why was he so drawn to their like? "What do the bosses want with you, anyway?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," Severus said coolly. The orc gave a grunt of disdain.

"Right. Us Uruks do all the dirt work and don't get to know nothing."

"Perhaps you should reconsider your allegiance if it is so intolerable." Dargum began to laugh once again.

"Who else are we going to work for? No fun in being on our own - then we'd be like the filthy urbh-hai." Severus gave a questioning look. "The mountain rats. Don't suppose you've ever been. Live like cockroaches there, and no fun to be had now that the gazat are done. Better Him than that, I say."

"Gazat?"

"Dwarves. Greedy little maggots who like gold. Poor sport but good spoil, if you know what I mean?" The orc gave an ugly smile that showed pointed teeth.

"Who are the bosses?" Severus questioned, eyebrows raised. Dargum regarded him shrewdly, and Severus realized that the orc captain knew far more than his diminutive stature would suggest.

"Aye, the bosses. That's for them to explain in their own time." Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Indeed. Perhaps I would be willing to reward those who showed me some... loyalty."

"What kind of reward?" Dargum asked bluntly, a greedy glimmer in his eyes. Severus gave him his best imitation of a smile.

"We'll have to see," he said. Dargum rejoined his lads, but Severus knew that the seed had been planted.

They were soon out on the surface, the moonlight peaking through the canopy above. The orcs spoke to each other in their own guttural language which Severus could not understand. He followed behind near the rear with only Lagûrz limping along behind him. Gollum remained at the head, now unchained, his spider-like movements filling Severus with loathing as they made their way past elven carvings and structures and southward out of the Woodland Realm. They soon passed through the Gate, a grand structure of pale wood wrapped in ivy, the doors still broken open from the initial assault, and approached the bridge that spanned the Forest River.

"Stop," Dargum hissed. Severus didn't have the keen eyesight that orcs seemed to possess, so it took him several seconds to recognize the pale cloaks and gleaming spears of the elven guards stationed in front of the bridge. Gollum had halted, and he came skulking back toward the others, but his eyes refused to meet those of Severus.

"Looks like Narnûlubat bollocksed it up again," Lagûrz said, his face made more twisted by the sneer it contained.

"Bugger," spat Dargum. "I'm gonna skin that worm alive when I get my hands on him."

"Not if I get him first," Anghâsh growled.

"What's that?" came a voice from behind. Severus whipped around rapidly to see that they had been stealthily approached by another orc.

"Oh, piss off you bloody cripple," Anghâsh said, and he gripped his axe.

The new orc, as tall as Severus and far wider and bulkier, sneered darkly at the two smaller orcs, but did not grab for his own blade. Severus could see that he was missing his right hand, and his not-so-long arm ended just above the elbow. The new orc's yellow eyes turned to regard Severus. "This the tark?"

Severus took the opportunity to scan the new orc's mind. The information he found shocked him more than he imagined. The orc served Saruman rather than Sauron. Saruman the head of the five wizards, an ally to Gandalf and an enemy to Mordor, or so they thought. Thranduil would sell his kingdom for suck knowledge were Severus actually able to prove it, but he knew that a baseless accusation from himself would be completely worthless.

Dargum grunted. "He's the one."

"You sure? Looks like a scrawny half-Uruk to me."

"I'm sure," Dargum said irritably. "Shame you wizard rats didn't get any of the wits, eh?"

"What did you say?"

"Deaf too. Bloody shame."

"I told you to watch your tongue, snaga," the large orc who Severus assumed was Narnûlubat growled. He had a deep, harsh guttural voice.

"I do hate to interrupt," Severus said coolly, "but I fear we have more pressing concerns." He glanced meaningful toward the slender bridge. Dargum and Narnûlubat glared darkly at him momentarily before turning back to each other.

"You were supposed to deal with them. We did our job," Dargum said, his red eyes regarding the larger orc resentfully. Narnûlubat sneered down at him contemptuously.

"Piss off! While you lot were sneaking round like rats we were fighting golug-hai. You ought to do it."

Narnûlubat was soon joined by nearly a dozen other large, bulky, man-like orcs, but Dargum did not seem overly concerned. They were somewhat larger than Severus' five 'rescuers', with dark, almost black skin, straight legs and limbs that were less overlong and faces that were, while still very unpleasant, almost human.

"What'll the Nazgul think when he hears that the wizard's slaves haven't done their part, I wonder? The Eye wonders..."

Narnûlubat laughed harshly. "No Eye here. We should be wondering what I think, I say. I wonder, tark, what do you say?" Nearly a dozen eyes turned to regard Severus, who forced himself to maintain his composure. He had no intention of harming the elves. He resented their less than ideal treatment but had no interest in making any enemies.

"Perhaps we should find another path." Severus regretted his words instantly as over twenty ugly, cruel roars of laughter rang out.

"There is no other way, foolish man," Narnûlubat said coolly. "It's the only crossing form hundreds of miles."

"Any ideas, Sneak?" Dargum asked, regarding Gollum shrewdly. Severus did not bother to hide his sneer as he turned to face the creature. Gollum cringed slightly, but peered up at the orcs, his eyes wide at their expectant scrutiny.

"We doesn't know, precious," Gullum croaked.

"What use are you? That's what I'd like to know." Dargum mused.

"None at all," Severus said. "A worthless little coward."

"Why d'you say that?" Dargum asked. "The Nazgul wanted him out just as much as you." Severus spared Gollum a malicious glance before continuing.

"He'll sell you out at the first opportunity." Dargum regarded Severus shrewdly.

"And you won't?"

"I'm your prisoner, not your friend."

"Right," Narnûlubat said, his voice oddly reflective. "We should send the Sneak." Dargum nodded, while Gollum glanced between the two captains and Severus wearily. Severus gazed at the wretch a look of deep contempt.

"We won't. Can't make us." Gollum lunged for it, scrambling away like a spider and darting between Kraibag and Lagûrz before they had a chance to react. He almost made it clear of the band but Takhbork caught him short.

"All right, prisoner, tell us how we're going to get accross." Dargum said. The orcs' eyes glared at Severus expectantly. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I do that?" Harsh laughter rang out.

"Orders were to get you to the bosses or do you in if we can't. Since we don't stand no chance against seven elf bowmen, we had hoped you'd give us some kind of alternative that didn't involve opening your stomach right here and now." Severus couldn't stop himself from paling. He hesitated for only a moment, his conscience twitching, before he explained his plan to cross the bridge. The elves had had their chance to trust him, after all. It was their own fault.

They watched wearily as the Sneak crept closer and closer to the bridge. Seven elves stood behind a small crenelated wall, their tall spears glinting in the moonlight as they held their bows ready. The delicate, elven made bridge reflected the pale light brilliantly, it's pale rope railings and elegant wooden frame somehow impressive despite the simple design.

"Halt!" said the nearest guard, an arrow ready and pointing at Gollum. Gollum halted and stood on two legs. "Gollum?"

"They came!" Gollum cried. "Orcses came. Must help us, precious."

The elf stepped forward apprehensively, but halted. "You will hold your hands where we can see them and approach."

Gollum did as he was bid and cautiously approached the elf. Severus watched in fascination as the other guards held their place unflinchingly, their arrows trained on the Sneak.

"Stop there," the guard said. He have a motion with his hands, and two other guards behind him began to approach Gollum.

"Must help us!" the Sneak cried, it's voice hysterical. It suddenly bolted forward, a mad, spidery dash toward the bridge and the elves guarding it. The elves foolishly took pity and exchanged bows for spears. It was a fatal mistake.

Gollum sent the flask crashing to the ground, and black liquid splashed and spattered the three nearest elves. They dropped to the ground instantly. The acrid fumes began to spread, and two more of the elves succumbed before the remaining two scrambled away. Unfortunately for them Gollum had cunningly swam across the river and approached from the far end of the bridge, so that they fled straight into the waiting ambush.

Anghâsh's axe split the first elf's skull in two, and Severus saw that they bled red the same as men. The other elf was quicker, and buried his sword on the first 'wizard rat' orc who attacked him. Three others overcame him, and Severus saw crimson as the elf crumpled to the ground. The orcs made quick work slitting the throats of the unconscious elves, and Severus tried to tell himself that they had brought it upon themselves.

He then watched in horror as a fat, broad Isengard orc named Ghaash began to butcher the dead elves for meat. The other orcs seemed equally repulsed, especially the five Mordor orcs, but they waited for him to finish packing his spoils with not a word of complaint. Severus made a point of walking as far away from him as possible as they crossed the bridge and passed into the forest and away from the elf-path.

"Oi, tark!" came a grunt. Dargum was walking with Narnûlubat, and the two orc chieftains seemed to actually be getting along. Their fight against the elves seemed to have been enough for the two to forget their dislike for each other's band. "Make yourself useful. Start gathering stocks and brush."

"I was given to believe that we would not be lighting any fires."

"We're not," Dargum said coolly. "It's not for fires; it's for them spiders."

"Spiders? Are they not your allies?" Severus asked. The orc and the Uruk both broke into uneasy laughter.

"They are, but Spiders don't care who you're with, they just want some meat. Fresh meat's meat wherever it comes from, and I don't blame them." Several nearby orcs nodded sagely at this, obviously finding such a sentiment appealing themselves.

"Besides, their venom makes a fine poison, and we're all spent out after culling those elves."

"'Least we got some good meat out of it," Ghaash crowed. Severus felt his stomach twist unpleasantly, and the five Mirkwood orcs made similar expressions of disgust.

"You can have your nasty golug flesh," Anghâsh spat. "Bloody disgusting."

"No meat on them anyway," said Shakgriig, a very large Isengard Uruk who towered over even Severus.

"Maybe we should give the elf-flesh to the tark. Bet he wouldn't mind a go at them after being locked up," came a sneering voice. Severus went white at Takhbork's words. The poisonous little runt was clearly trying to stir up trouble at his expense.

"Fuck off, runt," Dargum said quickly, but it was too late. Narnûlubat had a malicious look on his face as he regarded Severus.

"Why not? What d'you think, tark? Want some? Haven't seen you eat yet." The large Isengard orc stood up, his yellow eyes level with Severus' own.

"He needs his strength. The Master will want to Question him fully. Needs a full belly." Takhbork snatch a pale pink strip of meat from Ghaash's pack, dodging a clout from the large Isengard orc. Severus felt bile rising in his throat, but he kept his expression neutral. Complaining would only encourage the orcs.

"Put that down," Dargum said coldly. Takhbork smiled wider, his pointed, crooked teeth visible.

"Come on, boss. Just a bit of fun is all."

"He is not just some tark for sport. He is a guest of the Master. He is to be taken alive and treated with... kindness."

"What're you on about?" Narnûlubat asked, his yellow eyes glinting calculatingly. Severus realized that the Isengard orcs were obviously out of the loop. Dargum could only go so far to defend him before he would be forced to allow the orcs to have their sport or else risk revealing Mordor's secrets.

"Mordor business, wizard rat," Anghâsh said boldly, his large, four-fingered hand resting on his axe. "None of your concern."

Narnûlubat regarded the two Mordor orcs intensely. "I ought to show you snaga who's business is whose."

"No need for that, Narnûlubat," Dargum said reassuringly. "There's a reward involved, make no mistake. Right?" He glanced meaningfully at Severus.

The orcs all followed Dargum's gaze. He regarded them wearily, and silently thanked the orc chieftain's cunning.

"Indeed," he said mildly.

That seemed to satisfy the Isangard orcs, but it did not satisfy Takhbork. Severus could smell the orc's hot, foul breath before he saw his bow-legs approach.

"Eat up, tark," he said, and he thrust a piece of red, dripping, raw elf-muscle into Severus' lap. It took every ounce of mental control he possessed to avoid jumping up and retching in horror.

"You will remove that at once," Severus said, his tone full of command. Takhbork seemed almost inclined to listen without hesitation, but he quickly regained his malicious composure. The shrewd orc would not meet Severus' eyes directly.

"You refusing me, tark? What, you fond of them elves? Thought you were with us."

"I have no love of the elves," Severus said mildly. "I assure you."

"Then eat up. Just a bit is all. Make the lads a bit more comfortable, if you know what I mean." Severus could feel eyes once again on him, and he realized that the orcs as a whole thought Takhbork's request was reasonable. He looked down at the bloody strip of meat. He picked it up, and raised it in his mouth, and made a silent promise to put Takhbork under the Cruciatus Curse so long that the little runt would beg for death.

Severus promptly threw up, dropping the horrifying piece of flesh as he did so, to the roaring, mocking laughter of the orcs. Take irk was loudest of all. "Didn't think he'd actually try!" he crowed maliciously.

"All right, you've had your fun," Dargum shouted. "Move out!"

The orcs resumed their march soon after. The elves would be on them as soon as the larger party of Moria orcs was dealt with to the north, and they had no illusions that their band of less than twenty Uruks would stand against the might of the Mirkwood elves with their well-made elven swords and arrows.

They jogged at a slow, easy pace through the large, ancient trees, stopping only occasionally to pass waste or fill their skins from a small stream. Severus longed to transform into his much more agile and swift animagus form, but he had no way to explain his absence from the band.

"How far is it?" he asked Dargum. The orc spat.

"As long as it takes. You tired?" Severus could swear he heard several ears perk up in anticipation. True to form Takhbork's snide voice was the first to speak out.

"Is the poor tark tired?" he crowed gleefully. Mocking laughter rang out. "Maybe a bit more elf-flesh will pick him up."

The reminder of what he had done made Severus' stomach lurch, and he bent over and heaved its contents onto the dirt below. Cruel, mocking laughter met his ears once again.

The orcs' amusement at his expense aside, he could tell that they were impressed at Severus effort, and he could tell that with the exception of Takhbork the creatures were beginning to warm to him. Whether that was a good thing or not was something he felt no desire to consider.

They marched through the next day and late into the evening. The Mordor orcs cursed every clearing and patch of sunlight when the bright, clear July sun bathed them in its full light. Severus himself was gladdened by it, havimg grown oddly fond of sunlight in its near absence for so long. Mirkwood reminded him if the Forbidden forest, but the two were nothing alike. The Forbidden Forest was wild, but Mirkwood outside of the elven realm gave him an evil feeling.

The trees began to thin and grow shorter and more stunted as the land began to rise gently. Severus had been shown several maps of Mirkwood during his imprisonment, and had even stolen one of them for himself, but he dared not show the goblins. He knew that they were passing around the mountains that split the elven north from the Mordor controlled south, where the shadow of Dul Goldor ruled supreme. He suspected that the orcs daytime march had been deliberate, an attempt to cross the unshaded hills while night shielded them.

Gollum went his separate way as they crossed the enchanted river once again, and halted for several minutes to collect themselves. Severus watched the Sneak leave with a contemptuous glance, tempted to find some way to convince the orcs to end his miserable life but coming up short. He surreptitiously took the opportunity to fill several vials with the river's black water, careful not to touch it. They were moving south once again, the Mordor orcs hopeful of finding cover before daytime.

"Never been to the Dol Guldur," the tall Isengard captain was telling Dargum. The shorter orc looked up at his companion.

"Not much to see, really. Just the Nazgul, and you want to see as little of them as possible."

"I hear the Big Boss used to stay there, before the elves drove him out. The Master says it was all a big setup." Dargum laughed harshly as Severus strained his ears. He could feel Lagûrz's ever watchful eyes on his back, and he knew that the orc captains' discussion pertained to things he should not be privy to.

"Aye, so they say," Dargum said, and Severus saw a flash of red as the orc turned his head slightly and significantly toward him. The Isengard Orc snorted but changed the subject, and Severus cursed silently.

Takhbork didn't seem to take the hint, however, because he interrupted the two captains suddenly to add his own thoughts.

"I don't trust that Saruman. Think he's getting the wrong idea, if you know what I mean?" Severus saw Narnûlubat tense at that, and for once he was glad of the runty orc's combative nature.

"No," the Isengard chieftain said coldly. "Maybe you ought to explain."

"There's just some who say he might have his own plans - plans the Big Boss might not agree so well with." Takhbork glared slyly at the much larger orc. Severus could see that he walked just out of swatting distance.

"Might be we drop such fool ideas? Wouldn't want to have to tell Lugtau that the wrong questions are being asked, now would we?"

"Aye," said Anghâsh. "Let the Bosses deal with their own quarrels. We just follow orders and get what's due."

Narnûlubat, however, seemed unwilling to drop the subject, and Severus could hear that his voice was edged with anger. "Ha! You snaga are lucky to get a lashing. Saruman treats his well; gives us spoils and sport aplenty."

Many hands were moving toward many ugly weapons. Severus watched keenly, ready to take advantage of whatever may develop. How could Sauron and Saruman be so idiotic to rely on such quarrelsome creatures? Lord Voldemort may have been mad, and his followers largely incompetent, but they always carried out their orders to the best of their ability and with no infighting.

"Right you are, boss," Ghaash, the paunchy Isengard orc, said casually. He did not go for his weapon, but the glitter in his yellow eyes made it clear that he was itching witness a fight if not participate. "I think we ought to turn for Isengard. Take the tark to the our Master, and say good riddance to this Lugtau foolishness."

"Poke you with a rusty blade is what I'll do you don't stop this," Dargum said nastily. "We aren't going an extra thousand miles - reward or not. My orders were for Lugtau."

"Fuck your orders and fuck you, snaga," Narnûlubat growled, his eyes narrowed to yellow slits and his large hand resting on his curved, serrated blade.

The orcs had stopped walking, and all eyes were on the two captains now. Severus was suddenly shoved aside as Lagûrz, who had been behind him, went forward to join the other four Mordor orcs. Dargum and Narnûlubat eyed each other, but Dargum had not moved for his weapon yet. Severus could see little but the glow of eyes and the glint of steel in the pale morning twilight.

"Maybe we ought to calm down," Lagûrz said. The crippled orc hobbled up beside his commander. "No need to turn on each other. Don't reckon we want to make it any easier for the spiders, do we?"

"Spiders; Nazgul; you snaga get the worst Bosses. I say we leave them the tark and return to Isengard. We've done our part." Ghaash said. Narnûlubat regarded his leutenant mockingly.

"You just say that 'cause you're a bloody coward. No, the Master says the prisoner is to be delivered."

"To Lugtau?" Dargum asked mildly. Narnûlubat growled low and long at the smaller Mordor orc, spittle flying through pointed teeth, but he removed his weapon.

"For now."

Severus watched the entire exchange silently and with interest. The rift between the Isangard and the Mordor orcs was ever-present no matter how hidden, and the slightest push could easily set it off. Severus fully intended to take advantage of this opportunity. He had no intention of going anywhere near Dol Guldor or Isengard.

The first orc to go was a smaller Isengard orc called Bagûrz. The orc was unpopular because he complained even more than most orcs did, which was an impressive accomplishment, and was thus shunned and bullied away from the main group. They did not even notice his absence and had no way of knowing how long it had been since he had disappeared, but everybody was suddenly on edge.

"What do you think happened?" Severus asked Dargum. The orc gave a derisive snort.

"Nothing we need to worry about. One of the lads must've took his chance and taken him out. The Eye knows we all wanted to do it." Laughter greeted this pronouncement.

"Helmets off to him," Anghâsh said, his voice absurdly affable at such a proclamation. "Don't care what them wizard rats do but that little bugger gave me the creeps."

"Aye," Dargum agreed. "We ought to reward the one who done him it. What d'you say, Narnûlubat?"

The big Isengard orc let out a growl. "That all depends on which one of our lads did him in, I'd say."

"Now, now," Takhbork said, his nasty voice full of malicious glee. "It's not us who eat orc-flesh. That'd be your kind."

Severus knew that the time was not yet right for a confrontation. He would need to diffuse the situation. "Projecting, are we?" he asked coolly. The little orc gave him a look of surprise before his face, half ugly and half white scar tissue, twisted into a malicious grin.

"You're one to talk, tark. Who wants to bet he did him in so as to turn us against each other?" Severus sneered darkly, but the clever little Orc was certainly shrewd to make such a suggestion.

"What if I did?" he asked. "If I'm not mistaken your orders are to bring me alive to your master. I don't think he would like it much if your orders were to be... not carried out." Severus felt a crushing grip on his shoulder.

"Did you do it?" Dargum asked, his eyes boring into Severus' own. Severus gave a contemptuous look in return.

"What would I gain from it? One less orc would hardly allow me to escape." Dargum nodded.

"Exactly what I thought. Next time you go round trying to rile everyone up it'll be your neck that has one less burden, Takhbork." Dargum spared the little orc not another glance. Takhbork looked hatefully at Severus, and Severus wondered if perhaps he should follow through with the little runt's accusation after all, just with a different target.

It turned out that Severus' need not have bothered, because the second orc to be taken was Takhbork himself. Unlike the Isengard orc, however, the Mordor orc let out a shout and alerted the entire band, but Severus, unaware, nearly slammed into Dargum's back. The shorter Mordor orc had surprising strength as he flung a dirty hand over Severus' mouth to halt his inquiry, and jerked upward to the canopy with his other hand.

Severus peered up wearily, and saw nothing, but the Mordor orcs with their keen eyes seemed to find the happenings very interesting.

"Spiders," the orc whispered faintly into his ears. "Best thank the Great Eye we haven't had any rain lately."

The orcs sprang into action instantly. They pulled wads of dry brush and short sticks from their packs and began setting them at the base of a particularly tall, thin tree that had recently died. Its bare, skeletal branches still lightly covered with dead, dry leaves would catch fire much more easily than any living tree.

"What about your little runt?" Ghaash asked, his voice too loud. Dargum hushed him quickly, earning a hateful glare from both the Isengard captain and lieutenant for his presumption.

"He better hope the smoke wakes him before it's too late," the Mordor captain said, unconcerned. Severus was surprised to see the Isengard orcs share an uneasy look at that, but they made no comment.

"Here they come!" Anghâsh cried out, his harsh voice cutting through the silence. Severus' eyes shot upward, and he could see them descending on pale, gleaming strands of silk far too fast. Dozens of great black shapes, large gnashing pincers working furiously, eager to rend and destroy.

The orcs drew their blades. Severus felt something hard his his palm, and he realized that Dargum had handed him a blade himself. It was old and a faint line of rust ran along its center, but it was long and sharp. Severus had never used nor trained with a sword before, but he still felt some comfort in its presence.

Kraibag and Lagûrz were desperately working to set the tree alight, and Severus saw several flames growing in the brush and kindling.

The spiders came within striking range, and all turned to chaos as the orcs made their grunts and cries while the beasts hissed faintly, eerily silent despite their massive size.

Severus stuck close to Dargum and Anghâsh. He was of little use, his blade held out awkwardly, and he had no intention of risking his neck for the goblins at any rate. He saw Anghâsh's axe fall and strike a spider in the leg, but the beast was quick and it's pincers pulled the weapon from the large orc's grip. Dargum managed to stab it in the side of the face, however, and the creature jerked back in pain.

Severus turned around at a faint click to see a particularly large spider looming over him. He backed away slowly, realizing that at any second another spider could eviscerate him from behind, and realizing that he was terribly out of his element. He cursed Gandalf as his eyes widened and he made a wild swing with his sword. The spider's many eyes seemed to eye the weapon contemptuously.

It lunged at him, suddenly, its long forelimbs whipping up to knock the sword from Severus' hands, and its jaws quickly closing the distance to him. Severus prepared to die by a Dark creature for the second time in his miserable life, but it was not to be.

Takhbork shoved his dagger into the creature over a dozen times in rapid succession with a mad relish on his ruined face.

"Next time it'll be you, tark," the little orc said before he turned away contemptuously.

The battle was over as quickly as it started. Only two spiders had been taken down, and a single Isengard orc. The rest of the spiders were retreating, their many eyes resentful, as the fire grew and grew, its light intolerable them.

"Move it, slugs," Dargum cried, as Lagûrz and several Isengard orcs made short work butchering the two dead spiders and extracting their venom. Severus tried to surruptitiously recover the weapon he had been given, but Dargum caught him. "Afraid not. I'll be taking that back. Not that it did you much good anyway." Several orcs laughed mockingly at that, Takhbork loudest of all.

"Fucking Lugtau," spat Ghaash. "Fucking Nazgul. Can't control their useless pats at all."

"Watch it," Dargum said, but Severus could sense that the Mordor orc lacked any conviction. Even Takhbork appeared willing to forgo the opportunity to stir up trouble, because he kept silent as well.

They made the old forest road soon after. Overgrown and overrun with weeds it was hardly a path at all, but Severus decided that it would serve well enough. He only hoped that the orcs had not considered the same thing. They might be evil brutes, but they were very cunning, especially their commanders, and Severus knew that underestimating them would be a deadly mistake. Unlike Gandalf and the elves, he could not rely on their kindness to stay them from harming him, and even orders from a cruel boss meant little when the boss was still two hundred miles away in Dol Guldur.

The orcs were uneasy crossing it, their hands close to their daggers, but Severus realized quickly it was not his escape they feared, but elvish ambush.

"Those elves won't give you up easy," Dargum whispered as they prepared to make the crossing. "If the Bosses want you badly then I'd bet my arse the golug-hai do too."

Severus was able to surreptitiously take an endurance and a strength potion as the orcs made ready to once again move through the forest. He felt a rush of warmth and a glow of strength and he suddenly felt full of energy. He had to force himself to maintain his normal expression and tone of voice as he spoke up. He had not had enough material to brew more than several minutes worth of the endurance potion, and the strength potion would only last him an hour, but it would be enough.

"Perhaps we should turn to Isengard," Severus said slowly. "We could follow the road and avoid any more trouble with the spiders."

Severus forced himself to avoid smirking as Takhbork bit into the bait. "What're you on about, tark? Looks like I was right about him, eh, boss?" Dargum glanced between Severus and his subordinate.

"Easy for you to say, little poison-tongued worm," Narnûlubat spat. "None of your lads were taken. I think the wizard as the right of it. I've had enough of you snaga filth. We're doing things my way."

"We're going to Lugtau. End of fucking story."

"Oh, and who put you in charge, snaga?"

"This did, you worthless wizard rat." Dargum pulled his weapon. The other orcs did likewise, and Severus crept into the shadows.

"Aye, well it looks as if that's about to change. Isengard is where we'll go, and no Mordor slugs are going to stop us." Narnûlubat stepped closer to the Mordor orc, drawing himself to full height and squaring his shoulders.

"Got too big for your ugly head, Narnûlubat," Dargum said. "No matter - always planned to tell the Nazgul what you were about when we got to Lugtau anyway. Couldn't wait to see your head on the gates."

Narnûlubat lunged at the smaller orc, his long, serrated blade swinging high as the smaller orc ducked out of the way. Unfortunately the other orcs seemed more keen on watching their commanders battle than joining themselves.

"Oi! Cut that out!" Lagûrz cried out. "Bloody fools! We got to go!"

Severus knew he had to act to prevent the orcs from cooling off and settling their dispute rationally, so he met Ghaash's yellow eyes. The Isengard orc did not have a dark presence controlling his mind like the Mordor orcs did, and Severus gained access easily. Implanting memories was tricky work even with a wand, but the Uruk had a weak and empty mind, and so Severus felt no resistance. It turned out that a memory was already there ripe for exploiting, and Severus brought it to the front of the orc's mind.

"He's just a big bloody coward. I'd just love to stick him next time he darts from trouble, but the boss'd be angry," Lagûrz said. Kraibag let out an uneasy laugh, but did not argue, and Ghaash felt a flash of humiliated rage that he desperately suppressed. He would show the little snaga!

"Looks like we got ourselves a coward," Ghaash shouted at the hobbled orc. "Not everyone's a worthless cripple like you."

"What did you say, you fat yellow shit?" Lagûrz snarled, rounding on the Isengard orc. Ghaash's eyes narrowed to fiery yellow slits and he pulled his short, curved blade. The Mordor orc did the same and lunged.

Severus heard a cry of pain, and he saw that Dargum had landed a blow on Narnûlubat, his serratted blade opening the bigger orc's shoulder and making filthy black spill down it. The other Isengard orcs shouted in outrage, rushing for the Mordor captain, and the Mordor orcs retaliated. Chaos broke out.

Takhbork, the clever little runt, did not join in. Instead his eyes met Severus' and narrowed into slits, and the orc pulled his small, short bow from his back. Severus realized that the orc was about to make good on his promise from hours earlier. He had no escape and no options except one, so Severus transformed. The orc hesitated for only a moment as he saw the strange spectacle before he fired, and Severus felt white hot pain lancing through him.

The buck fled and fled, the arrow twisting painfully in its flank with every step. It could feel blood dripping from its belly, but it ignored it. Some magic seemed to give it strength and stamina despite its pain and injury, and it did not question it. The small, twisted pathway was pitted with roots and stones, and the dwarf and elf folk who tended it had neglected it, but it served well enough. The buck began to slow down, realizing that its pursuers must be long behind. It slowed to a canter then, and the pain if its injury was catching up. It was time to transform, it realized. Time to return to its other form to heal and plan.

A high, shrill cry rent the air, and a black terror fell on the animal. All thought fled it as it bolted. It ran and leaped and flew. Hooves pounding. Heavy thudding. Another shriek. Terror and more terror, but no amount of speed seemed enough, because the hooves were gaining. The buck nearly stumbled, and was glad for its smaller size. Realizing that the path led only to death, it dashed into a clearing and fled across. It darted into a narrow clearing in the trees. Another shriek, so unbearably close, and another further behind. Hooves pounding on grass. There wasn't enough room between the low brush and the large roots. In desperation the buck transformed.

Severus could not move. He looked up wearily as he heard the hooves approaching. Dark figures materialized in the mist. He could barely focus from the pain anymore as the endurance potion wore off, and he dared not look at the arrow. A black fear was attempting to overtake his mind, but he forced himself to keep a cool head with every mental shield in place. Three dark figures on horses halted before him, and from the nearest dismounted a tall figure cloaked in a long black robe, an evil sword held with two hands.

"In the name of Mordor, I greet thee, Severus son of Tobias. We have much to discuss." The figure lowered its hood to reveal a crown that rested on nothing.


	6. Dol Guldur

Severus opened his eyes. He was laying in a bed, and downy feathers pricked at his back through thin sheets. He tossed the cover aside and stood up. The room was small and dim, with only the embers of a fire providing light from the far fireplace. The walls were pale stone and he could feel a cold menace permeating everything, but the furnishings themselves were comfortable, even more than even his cell with the elves had been.

He had been given new robes. The material was different, and the way they moved, but they looked almost identical to the ones he had worn before. Black, unadorned, and almost bat-like when he spread his arms. He was clean shaven once again, and his hair was unusually soft and fine, though still shoulder-length.

A single slender window was present on the wall between the fireplace and the bed, with no light coming in through it. Severus approached it and leaned outward into the still summer air to get a better view, and beheld the Amon Lanc and the power of Mordor in Mirkwood stretched out below him.

It hardly looked like a hill from the height Severus found himself. In the distance he could see the trees of Mirkwood which grew ever taller as the ground sloped gently downward. Closer in an endless number of fires and torches were ringed, and Severus could hear a faint din and clatter from the uncountable forces that were camped there. Closer still he could see battlements and towers, shorter in the distance but ever growing until the nearest tower, a black shape of slit windows, reached almost to his eye level at its highest point, crowned by battlements with spears of iron jutting upward from the center.

The sheer scale of the fortress dwarfed Hogwarts. The tower he stood in must have been twice as tall as the Astronomy Tower, and wider as well. The entire fortress was an uneasy juxtaposition of light and darkness, with cracked, elegant buildings of elvish design making up the bulk of the structure, and ugly, menacing structures that he supposed were of Mordor that had been built on top of the existing fortress. Severus turned away and regarded the heavy iron door that enclosed him. Only then did he notice the item resting on the small bedside table below the window.

A small jeweled ring with a black stone set in a gold band. Severus could feel the magic radiating from the artifact, and the poem of the rings came back to him. Dumbledore's blackened hand swam through his mind, and he dared not touch it.

He was in Dol Guldur. That much was clear. How he had come to be there was much less clear, and it took him long moments to piece things together. His last clear memory was of transforming, the animal consciousness leaving him as he stared up at the Nazgul standing in front of him. The agony of his injury from the treacherous orc's arrow, and the horrible feeling of terror that he could not shake.

He remembered very little of the next 200 miles from the Old Forest Road to Dol Guldur. Moments of painful wakefulness filled with orc voices and curses and grumbling, the horrible feeling of coldness that would not go away, and the continued agony of his ribs. He wondered if he had taken a fever again, or if he had succumbed to the Black Breath, the affliction that Aragorn had told him was common to any mortal that was in the presence of a Nazgul. He took a moment to lift his robes and examine the very large scar that was now present on his ribs before a voice startled him.

"You have woken," said the voice. "That is good. The Master wishes to speak to you." Severus turned and, with some relief, saw that it was a human who had spoken. He was an ancient man, with white hair and shrewd grey eyes, but still tall and powerfully built. He wore robes of his own, but thinner and somehow even blacker than Severus'. Though his tone was cool and polite Severus could feel the subtle malice of his character just beneath the surface.

"I am Gimlan, servent of Sauron the Great, oh mighty Severus." Severus could sense the mockery in the man's words. He glanced at the ring wearily. "A gift from Lord Sauron. He bids you accept it as a token of trust."

"Tell Lord Sauron he has my thanks," Severus said politely.

"The Master wishes to speak to you. When will you be ready?"

Severus did not know who the master was, but he strongly suspected that it was somebody he did not want to speak to, but could not refuse. "Whenever he wants to see me."

"You will come with me."

Severus followed silently as the man led him out of his chamber. They were in a circular hallway, and they began to follow its length. Severus passed by other rooms, doors open and empty. They ringed the outer circumference, and were identical to his but bare of any furnishings. They eventually came to a larger door set in the inner circumference, and began to descend a long spiral staircase.

"Who will I be speaking to?" Severus asked. Gimlan glanced backward at him and frowned.

"You will see." Severus snorted.

"It's not a difficult question."

"Your tongue will serve you poorly with him, Wizard," Gimlan said, his voice full of contempt.

"You are not your Master," Severus replied coolly. The tall man glared at him maliciously. Severus took the opportunity to probe his mind, but found that he was blocked by similar magic to that of Aragorn.

"All will be explained when you see Him." Severus could sense the mingled excitement and fear in his voice.

They reached another large doorway, and upon exiting past it another larger iron gate. Two large Orcs eyed them wearily with slanted eyes before pulling the doors open to reveal a short causeway that separated the Elf Tower, as Severus called it in his mind, from the Black Tower, the shorter, evil looking tower he had glimpsed earlier. The causeway itself was of black iron and its functional aesthetic was a harsh change from the beautiful, pale stone and fine, though faded, artwork that adorned the Elf Tower's walls and ceilings.

"I will leave you now," Gimlan said as another Orc, taller than Severus and far wider, with a great scar across its face, pulled open the heavy iron gate of the Black Tower. "The Master awaits inside."

The Orc grunted something in its own speech and beckoned for Severus to follow.

"I will await you here."

Severus followed the Orc, his unease growing. There was no light in the Black Tower itself save that from the Orc's torch, and he followed it silently down another spiral staircase. The air was cold, almost frigid, and he could see his breath on it. They reached the bottom soon after, and once again Severus was left to pass through the next doorway. As the Orc turned and began to climb the stairs once again Severus realized that there was actually light after all, an ambient, greenish glow that could best be described as corpse-like. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing tall as he stepped into the chamber.

The door slammed shut behind him, and his face paled despite his best efforts. A large throne was set in the center made wholly of wrought iron, black and ugly, but nothing sat in it. The room was otherwise bare, with only a grand gate at one end that was closed. Severus stared wearily into the near darkness and nothing stirred for long moments until Severus saw it. Pale, grey-blue eyes and a crown that rested on nothing. He jumped back, and heard a soft, mocking laugh.

"Severus the Great, we have heard much of thy coming," said a high, almost hissing voice from below the crown. "Many rumors of thee have been heard." Severus could feel the Dark energy radiating off the Nazgul, and it took all of his mental control to avoid shivering in terror.

"I have heard much about you, Lord Angmar," Severus said coolly. He heard a shuddering intake of breath.

"It gladdens me to hear so," the high voice said. "You are afraid. Why do you fear me so?"

"I do not intend to offend, my Lord," Severus said, his voice placating.

"You do not. I blame not you, Severus. That lays at the feet of the Elves and their Mannish sycophants. Have you not seen their hospitality?"

"I have." Severus' voice was bitter, more than he really felt in truth, because he knew very well that Mordor had no intention of treating him any better.

"Know that you are not alone. See what they have done to me? See what they have done to the Uruk? Murderers and liars is all that they are, and Sauron will see them and their cruel oppression ended at last." The cold, harsh voice was filled with conviction at its words, and Severus found himself feeling the strangest urge to take heed to them.

"Is that so?" Severus asked, only realizing too late the insolence of his tone. The Nazgul let out a hiss of disapproval that made him shiver in fear.

"Do you doubt me?"

"No," Severus said quickly. "I am new to this land. I would be glad to hear your side of the story." Mocking laughter.

"My side?" There were no footsteps as the wraith approached. It took every ounce of willpower Severus possessed to not step back in terror. "There is only one truth, Severus. I would have thought that you would see it after what they have done to you."

"You are right. I apologize, my Lord." The eyes narrowed.

"Do not lie to me. Why have you not accepted Lord Sauron's generous gift, Severus?" the voice asked, hard and accusing.

"I felt it would be presumptuous, my Lord," Severus said. "I did not know..." The eyes seemed to widen.

"I did not take you for a fool... perhaps that is true. I will forgive your unintended rudeness, oh mighty Severus. The ring is yours. A gift for you, and a token of trust from Sauron the Great, Lord of the Earth."

"I thank Him," Severus said. Feeling the need to placate the terrible presence before him further, he took a knee. "I deeply apologize for any offense to Him."

"Good. You will serve Him well, mighty Severus. We have seen that." The Nazgul paused, and Severus did not know what to say, so he waited. "Tell me, what is it that you would do for us in return for such a mighty gift?"

"I do not wish to serve. I wish for the freedom that the elves denied me." A hiss of obvious disapproval.

"You do not wish vengeance?"

"No." Another long pause greeted this answer, but Severus could detect no offense in it. He wondered if whatever humanity remained in the wraith standing before him empathized with his desire. Surely the Nine longed for freedom and resented their servitude.

"You do not understand the way of this land. You would think you are free, but as long as the Elves and their Man-slaves remain it would never truly be so. Only through service in the noble cause of Sauron can you truly be free. The tyranny of Gondor must end."

Severus remained silent. "I would ask for time to consider. To prepare myself." The air suddenly grew unbearably cold.

"You stall, wizard. Why do you stall?" Severus tried to think of some argument, but he knew it was hopeless. He shivered terribly in the coldness. The eyes approached him closer, silently, and he was filled with menace.

"I'm not stalling. I just am new to this. I must... I must have time to recover from the hurts that the elves have done on me." He could tell that the Nazgul remained skeptical, but it considered for a long moment.

"Very well. Time you shall have, but not too long. The shadow of Gondor grows, and only through the strength of the Uruk and those Men still loyal to Melkor and Sauron his servant can hope to fight it."

The doors opened, and torchlight flooded the chamber. Severus took his leave without another word. It took all of Severus' strength to follow first the Orc and then Gimlan back to his chamber. The man said nothing, but his grey eyes seemed to drink in Severus' condition with a kind of sadistic reverence.

As soon as the iron door slammed shut Severus collapsed into a gibbering, terrified wreck on the floor beside the fireplace. The warmth of the flames did little to drive away the deep chill that had overtaken him. All he could think about were pale eyes set in non-existent sockets, a cold voice, and a black fear. He awoke some time later, somehow returned to the bed, but still shaken from the encounter.

Severus considered the ring. It was very beautiful, and he could sense no Dark Magic from it. He knew he could channel his magic with it, and the thought of being able to perform the simplest charm filled him with longing. Aragorn's words and warnings stayed him, but they seemed very far away at that moment. Aragorn had treated him with kindness and, more importantly, as an equal, but none of his allies had. Would it be so bad for Severus to risk service to Sauron? He had nobody left that he cared about that he could possibly hurt by doing so.

Severus reached out a pale, spidery hand, his fingers nearly brushing the silver band.

"Why do you scorn his gift?" Severus jerked his hand away as if burned and turned to give a burning glare at Gimlan. "Sauron is generous to give such to one as you."

Severus regarded the man coolly. "Indeed? I presume you feel that there is another more worthy?"

A cruel smile. "That is for Him to decide. Tell me, do you think the elves will accept you? Do you thing the Men of Gondor want anything to do with you?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I want nothing to do with them. They betrayed me and imprisoned me."

"Then why do you not take Sauron's gift?"

"That's none of your business. Does your Master call for me again?" Gimlan laughed mockingly.

"You may fool Sauron for now, Wizard, but he will see the truth in time. You are a fool to think that the elves would accept one such as you."

"You're delusional."

"Then take the ring and put it on. Do it now."

"You don't order me, slave," Severus snarled.

"We are all slaves to the Eye, Wizard. Those who are not will perish." Gimlan smirked. "But not before every secret is laid bare. All that you know, Wizard. He will see it all, and then he will make you wish that you had served of your own free will."

"Is that all?"

"We will speak again, _Engwar_." Gimlan placed Severus' meal on the table before leaving with one last contemptuous gaze.

Severus did not know how much time passed before he was summoned again. The light never changed outside his window under the permanent darkness of Dol Guldur, where only the faint glow of the campfires below and the few lit windows of the fortress itself provided any illumination. Only Gimlan's visits to provide his food and drink passed the time. He reckoned no more than two days and no less than one.

"The Mouth has arrived," Gimlan said. "He will be taking you to Lord Sauron."

"The Mouth?"

"You shall see," Gimlan said.

Severus followed wearily as he was led down the spiral staircase. They passed the doorway that led to the Black Tower, to Severus' great relief, and continued further and further down until they came to a large, grand room with a high roof. The ceiling had an elegant pattern etched into it that long years of neglect had faded. The floor was of pale, smooth stone that was pitted and cracked, and Severus had to watch his steps as they approached the grand entryway that was set into the opposite wall. Seven fireplaces surrounded the room, each lit, but two additional fires burned in the center of the room, these lit only by a heap of wood and refuse and looking very out of place.

The great doors were thrown open, and Severus beheld the might of Dol Guldur. The base of the Elf Tower was raised above a wide, high step that led down into the ground below. The Nazgul, Lord Angmar, sat, cloaked, atop a black horse, and next to it stood an even more hideous animal that bore another tall man in a black cloak with a black helm. Behind and below them were the Orcs, rank on rank of squint-eyed, armed and armored soldiers of Mordor stretching as far back as Severus could see.

"See the might of Mordor, oh mighty Severus?" said the man beside the Nazgul. "No force can stand against it."

The man dismounted his horse and entered the hall. He removed his helmet to reveal a lined face and a bald head. He was not ugly by any stretch, possessing similar features to Aragorn though his eyes were an eerie red-grey, but there was something off about his appearance as a whole that Severus could not put his finger to.

"I am the Mouth of Sauron, and in His name I greet thee," he said with a crooked smile that revealed rotted teeth.

Severus said nothing, because he could think of nothing to say.

"Why do you not wear his gift?" the Mouth asked.

"I am not worthy of such a token." the Mouth laughed at that.

"It matters not. You will wear it when we return to Mordor." Severus tried to hide the unease that this pronouncement gave him. Mordor was the very last place he ever wanted to go. "Are you not impressed by its strength? The forest elves will never stand against us."

"I have no doubt that you will be victorious," Severus agreed. "I will be glad to see Thranduil destroyed."

"Yes, we have heard much of your time with them. The elves have foolishly turned away their greatest asset, but that is not unexpected. Tell me, Severus, what do you intend?"

"That depends on what your master asks of me," Severus said.

"My Master asks that you serve him, so that he may set all right that has been made wrong."

"He asks too much." The Mouth laughed, and swept his hand out at the assembled Orcs.

"You wish to bargain? Tell me, what do you offer?" Severus considered the question for a long moment as he realized that the Mouth was entirely serious.

"What bargain does the Dark Lord suggest?" he asked. The Mouth laughed.

"Clever Wizard, but the Dark Lord starts high, I am afraid." The Mouth turned. " _Snaga_ ," he shouted, addressing Gimlan, "fetch us something to eat. We desire to see the gardens."

"I would still like to hear his offer," Severus said. "Even if I will be forced to take it either way." The Mouth have an evil smile.

"Insolent one, I see. Just see that you hold your tongue when in the presence of the Master, for he does not tolerate any."

"I'm not stupid," Severus said. The Mouth laughed.

Gimlan led them wordlessly through another chamber door, and they found themselves in a longer Elf hall, this one clearly abandoned.

"How has your time in _Lugtau_ been to you, oh mighty Severus?" the Mouth asked, ignoring his question. "Slaves and Nazgul make poor company, I am sure."

"It has been acceptable," Severus said slowly. The Mouth nodded.

"Good. This _Snaga_ has the tendency to rise above his place at time. Is that not true, whitehead?" the Mouth asked cruelly. Gimlan did not turn around.

"As you say, Master," the other man said.

"You will look to me when you address me, slave," the Mouth said. Gimlan paused and nearly glared at his boss before schooling his expression into one of meek deference.

"Yes, Master," Gimlan said. Severus could feel the intensity of the subordinates dislike.

"What do you say, Severus?" the Mouth asked. "How many lashes has he earned?"

Severus sputtered awkwardly. "That is not for me to say."

The Mouth laughed gleefully. "Say anyway. I would know."

"None." The Mouth's eyes narrowed briefly, but then his expression softened.

"You do not delight in sport, I see? No matter, not all His servants need be so."

"You never told me what the Dark Lord's offer is." Severus stated. Gimlan shot Severus a look of mingled resentment and hatred as he pulled open the doors at the far end of the hall.

Severus almost gasped at the beauty of what he saw before him. Ringed by ancient elven towers and battlements, the great gardens of Amon Lanc were a relic of a time before the shadow of Sauron had taken hold in southern Mirkwood. A little oasis of green and multicolored flowering plants set in the very heart of one of the darkest places in Middle-Earth. The entire area was illuminated by a single, great beam of sunlight that pierced the clouds from above and seemed to stay fixed despite their movement.

"How?" Severus asked.

"An ancient magic, from a time before even the Elves, I think," the Mouth said. "A place for Men to come and be at peace even in darker times. The elves deny us what beauty they can, but some still holds even where they would say it should not."

Severus drank in the exotic plants and shrubs, the gentle streams and fountains, and the pale, cracked stone paths. Letting his eyes rise above the enclosure he beheld the darkness of Dol Guldur like a black curtain. The Mouth's next words broke the spell completely.

"Come, Gimlan, I think that you should be chastised, though our guest is too soft-hearted to say so."

Severus wanted to protest, but he dared not. The shorted, white haired man hid his fear well as he followed Severus and the Mouth into the garden.

"You wish to know Sauron's offer, oh mighty Severus? It is this: you will journey to Edoras. Saruman believes that it is his to rule. Sauron would like you to remind him who his true master is. Do this, and Sauron will grant you your freedom, and you will owe Him service no more, save to never take arms against Him."

"I'm not much of a diplomat," Severus said.

"I do not think this is a matter where words will be needed." The Mouth picked a fruit from a tree and handed it to Severus before picking one of his own. "Do you accept these terms?"

"I would like some time to consider them," Severus said slowly. The Mouth frowned.

"Time is what we do not have. I leave for Mordor the day after next. You will either accompany me, or you will remain here in service of the Nazgul. I assure you that they are no better Masters than I." It was not the man next to him that Severus feared, but his master in Mordor.

"I will decide by then," Severus agreed. The Mouth, satisfied, turned to Gimlan.

"Come, Gimlan, it is time." The Mouth pulled out a long, narrowing cord.

"I would like to take my leave," Severus said quickly.

"As you wish. Lord Angmar wishes to speak with you before you return to you chamber."

Severus hurried from the room as he heard the man's cries. True to the Mouth's word, the Nazgul was waiting just inside the entrance hall to the garden, a cloaked, black shadow contrasting with the pale stone walls.

"Your fate is revealed," he said. "When do you wish to depart?"

"For Mordor?" Severus asked.

"For Moria. A party of Uruk is ready and waiting to accompany. You could leave tomorrow. The sooner you depart, the sooner your task shall be done and you will be free of our service. Is that not what you desire, Severus son of Tobias?"

"What is this power that he spoke of?" Severus asked.

"Curious Wizard," the Nazgul said in a tone of mocking affection. "That you will find when you master your ring and set out. Do you object to your task?"

Severus wanted to say yes, but he knew it was hopeless. "No. It is a fair request. I just want to know how much chance of survival I have."

The Nazgul gave a high, harsh hiss that Severus assumed was a laugh. "That is up to you. Master your ring, and with your powers as they are rumored, you may have a chance - but the Master is confident that violence will not be needed."

"What if - whatever I'm going to meet doesn't want to leave its pit?" Severus asked.

"Enough questions, Severus," the wraith said. "Return to your chamber. You will begin to train in the use of your ring tonight so that you may be ready. I will call for you then."

The Nazgul turned and left Severus alone in the chamber. Severus thought that he was going to be allowed to make his own way back, but was not surprised when the Orc guarding the Black Tower he had seen during his first visit was waiting for him at the foot of the spiral staircase of the Elf Tower.

It was a bitter and shivering Severus that sat down at his desk and glared at the ring - his ring, if he would only take it. He knew what it would mean to put it on. He pulled up his sleeve and regarded his now faded Dark Mark. It was black, and dead, and there was not even the faintest trace of Dark Magic on it anymore. Just an ugly tattoo. The ring would place a new one on him, not visible to the eye but far more terrible.

_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_   
_One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them._

He would once again be joining Dark Side, and this time it would be against his will. He was in Hell after all, and whether it was for serving Lord Voldemort, killing Dumbledore, or being cruel to the Potter brat he did not know. He allowed himself several hours of bitter, angry reflection.

It was not long after that a sullen Gimlan came and led Severus once again down to speak to the Witch-King. They spoke nothing to each other, Severus fully aware that the other man blamed him for what had happened earlier, and Severus silently tried to prepare himself for a second encounter with a Nazgul in so many hours.

You have not taken up your gift," the wraith said, its cold voice colder.

"I am not yet ready, Lord Angmar," Severus said. He found that he was able to resist the Nazgul's terrible influence better, but he could still feel his mind weakening and his nerve dwindling by the moment.

"Not ready yet? It is nothing to put it on. Why do you delay?" Severus struggled for some excuse. He could not let on that he knew of the ring's corrupting influence, because that would indicate his knowledge of the One Ring, and that would almost certainly lead to Sauron torturing everything he knew about it out of him.

"I don't want to pay the price."

"You fool!" the Nazgul hissed suddenly, and Severus felt a horrible, freezing blast. "Let the pretense be dropped at last - you are a slave now. Mordor demands you serve, and serve you shall, willing or no. Now stop this folly, and put on the ring, for you will like service as a mere Man far less, I judge." The Nazgul unfurled a gloved hand and Severus saw the silver band resting on it.

"Give me time to prepare, and I will take up your Master's cause."

"I have already given you time. It is time to act. Serve me now, or go with the Mouth to Mordor, and Sauron shall decide your fate." Severus paled.

"That won't be necessary. I will serve you now." Severus thought for a second, and quickly added, "I won't take orders from some Man." He spat the last word out with the same venom he had reserved for muggle in his old life.

"Then you will take up the ring now, so that we may begin."

"I don't know if it will work..."

"You lie to me, Severus," the wraith said, its terrible eyes narrowed. "Do not mock me. Why do you fear the ring so?"

Severus hesitated only a moment. He had no choice. He could either take his chances with the ring, or he would have the information tortured out of him by Sauron. "I don't. I will try it."

The Nazgul dropped the ring into Severus' hand. He closed it around the artifact and positioned it so that he held it between thumb and forefinger.

"Put it on," said the voice. Severus hesitated for several more seconds as he whispered a silent curse to whatever god had deemed him worthy of two lifetimes of slavery.

Severus slipped the ring onto his finger. He waited long moments, his heart pounding, the Nazgul's pale eyes narrowed, and nothing seemed to happen. He was about to try a simple spell to see if it was effective when he heard a voice that wasn't his own.

 _"You have made a grave error, Severus Snape."_ The voice was deep and powerful but feminine, and he recognized the source almost instantly. His eyes widened slightly, but the Nazgul seemed to take it for something that was not sinister.

_"Get out of my mind!"_

_"Take it off."_ The voice had a panicked tone. _"Take it off now!"_

 _"I can't."_ A pause.

 _"Prepare yourself. He is coming."_ Severus went pale.

_"I didn't want this!"_

The voice took on a compassionate tone. _"I will aid you as I am able."_

The voice retreated suddenly, as if pushed away by some other force, and Severus desperately worked to gather his thoughts. The ring seemed to recognize the Latin and Arabic enchantments that wizards in Severus' own world used, and Severus began use its power to further strengthen and organize his mind. He could feel something approaching, a menacing shadow that eclipses even the Nazgul standing in front of him. Severus braced himself, desperately throwing every unimportant and trivial memory to the forefront of his mind and choosing which valuable secrets to sacrifice so that he might preserve the far more valuable ones he was hiding.

The Eye was upon him. Severus' head split open with more agony than he thought possible, and for the first time in his life he felt pity for Harry Potter.


	7. Barad-Dur

Severus gaped wordlessly at the image that was present in his mind - at least, he assumed it was his mind, because surely he was not actually in Barad-Dur. He was in a dark room, a large window in front of him with a faint glow radiating through it from sooty black clouds above and barren, dark stony ground that stretched as far as he could see, but all else was blackness. Suddenly there was a flash of orange, and in the distance he saw, had he known its name, Orodruin, which lay directly west of the Window of the Eye from which he gazed. A river of fire wound its way from the base of the peak toward where he was, disappearing below view. He could not turn his view from where it was fixed, but whether he was unable to or he dared not he did not know for sure.

Sauron stared down at him, Darkness made flesh. He could not discern any features on him save that he was humanoid in shape and terribly large and powerful. A great heat radiated from him that would have burned Severus if he had been actually been there, and the air shimmered from it giving everything an illusory feeling. The Dark Lord's eyes were like embers, black pupils narrowed in malice peering through shadow, and the intensity of his gaze was more terrifying than any Nazgul or Dementor, and he knew that it was a gaze that made the world tremble before it and commanded forces greater than he could comprehend.

"What is your name?" Sauron's voice was harsh and frightening, but it held a strange beauty to it.

Severus made no thought of lying. "Severus Snape."

"I have heard much of you, Severus Snape. It appears that the rumors are true..." Sauron spoke no actual words as far as Severus could tell, and he replied with none, but it seemed as if they had both spoken anyway.

Severus stared wearily up at Sauron. The intense heat was smothering, and he wondered if his body was being consumed by fire back in Dol Guldur. "The rumors, my Lord?"

Sauron laughed cruelly. "You supplicate well, little slave. Tell me, how did your supplication serve you in Thranduil's mighty halls?"

"What do you want from me?" Severus asked. He could not actually see the Dark Lord's face through the shadow, but somehow he could tell that he smiled.

"My servants have already told you your task. I only seek surety, Severus. I want to know that you are now loyal to me."

"I am, my Lord. Why would you doubt it?"

"Were you a man I could see it. One cursed by Eru with such an appearance would surely turn to me..." Sauron began to laugh once again. "Tell me, Severus, how the elves tolerated having one so wretched in their care?"

"They were unjust, my Lord, but not cruel."

"You damn them with faint praise. Mordor welcomes all who wish to serve. Doubt remains, however. Tell me, Severus, where are you from?"

Severus hesitated only the slightest amount, but he could sense the disapproval radiate from the Dark Lord, and suddenly the agony increased tenfold. It was worse than anything; worse even than the Cruciatus Curse. The pain cut to his very soul, and he felt a crushing despair at the same time as every nerve in his body screamed. He was about to cry out the truth, to shout "England!" at the top of his lungs; anything to make the pain lessen, but when he did so, it was not that which came out.

"Valinor!"

A snort of grim triumph. "What was your name before you came? Whom did you serve?"

Once again he seemed to know the answer, and this time he did not hesitate before giving it. "Auciri of Ulmo."

"Why were you sent here?"

"I hoped to impress the one I loved." Sauron laughed cruelly.

"You thought that great deeds and heroic efforts would avail you. That is why you agreed to come." Sauron regarded Severus shrewdly. "You have seen the might and strength of Mordor. None in Middle-Earth can stand against Me now. Certainly not a pathetic fool such as yourself. Do you understand, little slave?"

"I have seen the might of Mordor, oh great Sauron," Severus said. "I will serve you now, and I will have my revenge on the elves and on those who have turned me away."

"You shall have it, little slave, but first, I must know the truth of your words myself. Open your mind willingly, for I shall not be gentle if you do not." The burning eyes narrowed suddenly, and Severus could feel the pull on his mind growing. He opened his mind and relaxed his shields, and the Eye drove into his mind with an intensity that worse than anything Lord Voldemort had ever done, even on that day when Severus had arrived hours late after his rebirth and was tortured for hours on end.

He gave to the Eye the memories that had once been most precious to him, but no longer held any true strategic value. They were different than he remembered living them. It was not Hogwarts he remembered, but a strange land of unthinkable beauty and scale. It was not Lily he remembered, but a red-haired goddess. It was not magic they practiced, but the creation of the world itself. It was not Voldemort he had turned to, but Melkor, the Dark Lord who had served before Sauron. He did not turn to Dumbledore for freedom, but a powerful God-like figure known as Manwe. He was pardoned for providing crucial intelligence that aided Melkor's defeat in the great War of Wrath millennia before, but it did nothing to win the heart of the one he loved.

The Eye retreated from his mind. Severus was on the floor of the Witch-King's chamber, and he saw the image of Sauron slipping away. "You will serve me well, Severus Snape. We will make all things right and destroy all those who have wronged us."

"Yes, my Lord."

He looked up at the Nazgul, now facing away from him and at a distance. He realized that he could see him now, though not clearly, and his crown no longer rested on nothing. White, ghostly hair fell down to his shoulders and pale hands emerged from long sleeves. Severus slipped out unconsciousness, and forgot to remove his ring.

"Wake up, Severus," said the other voice. The one that had promised to help him. "Your Master needs you."

Severus opened his eyes. He was in his bed once again, a low fire burning in the grate. Galadriel did not appear to him as Sauron had, nor did she split his head open in agony. He felt a strange warmth push the coldness and dread from his encounter with Sauron and the Nazgul away.

"What did you do?" Severus demanded of the voice. He heard no reply for long seconds.

"We told the Enemy only what he wanted to hear," Galadriel replied. Severus could detect the very faintest hints of smugness. "Gandalf told me what he knew of you; I embellished your own tale as you revealed it to us."

"What else do you know of me?" Severus narrowed his eyes at the fireplace opposite him, for all the good it would do.

"Sauron created the Rings of Power to control others - I was able to use that purpose to my advantage to be with you as you fought him. You did well, Severus. Few could withstand such a meeting."

"I don't trust you."

"I do not ask you to. I only ask one thing - what do you know of the Rings of Power?" Severus considered refusing to answer or lying, but he did owe Galadriel for helping him withstand Sauron, and she had no part in Gandalf and Thranduil's idiocy.

"Aragorn told me everything."

"Middle-Earth owes you a great debt for keeping such secrets, Severus Snape. Thranduil and Gandalf will surely be chastened to learn of your bravery." Severus could not stop the self-satisfied smirk that grew on his face.

"Your praise would be more meaningful had you not been prepared to learn my secrets by force."

"Thranduil deceived you. My purpose in Mirkwood is far graver than that - we have reason to believe the Enemy has chosen to attack the Woodland Realm in force, and he gathers many armies to Dol Guldur." Severus snorted. He would surely look like a fool if anybody had been watching him.

"I'm afraid your speculation is correct; perhaps a way to entice me to join him?" Severus smiled maliciously at the thought. "He doesn't want me to join the army, though. He has another plan for me."

"We shall see. The Dark Lord trusts no-one fully save the Nine, but we have increased his confidence in you greatly."

"I'm afraid I don't share your enthusiasm," Severus replied mockingly.

"Your situation is more perilous than you know. Use your ring as little as you are able, for if what I suspect is true it is an evil thing in total, and will twist all your purpose to serve the one who rules it. I must go; call upon me when you are able."

Galadriel's presence faded from Severus' mind. He sat up and pulled the ringer from his finger with a feeling of mingled relief and disappointment. He could sense the power and control it offered him slipping away, but he could also tell that some of it still lingered. Gimlan arrived almost immediately afterward.

"The Master commands your presence," he said. Severus could detect a glint of triumph in the man's cold eyes. Severus said nothing and followed him, but Gimlan seemed eager to gloat. "Did I not tell you that all are slaves to the Eye?"

Severus gave the man his hardest sneer. "Do you think I'm an idiot? Of course I knew what they were doing. If you weren't too busy getting buggered you might have paid attention."

Gimlan whirled around, fists clenched, a red look on his ancient face. Severus suspected that had he been armed, he would have tried to eviscerate Severus right then and there. "You may be his new favorite pet, but you're still an ugly little low-man. Watch your tongue."

Severus smirked maliciously as he snatched his ring and placed it between thumb and forefinger. "Do you mock me, servant?"

To his great delight Gimlan lunged, his hands grabbing for the ring. Had Severus been magically helpless he would have been overtaken, but he was not. Gimlan was blasted backward, and he landed hard against the far wall in a heap.

"I think I know the way," he said coolly as the taller man glared hatefully at him from the ground. "Maybe I'll mention what you did to 'the Master'?" Gimlan, to his credit, showed no fear at Severus' threat, and he felt a small measure of grudging respect for the man.

Severus slipped the ring back on as he entered the spiral staircase and began to descend the Elf Tower.

"He plans to train me," he told Galadriel.

"Hold back. Do not show the true extent of your powers."

"Anything useful to tell me?" Galadriel seemed wholly unconcerned by his scornful tone.

"His true purpose is always to draw you toward his master. Do not argue; nor defy openly. Try to seem as if you have succumbed."

"I'm not an idiot."

"Nor is the Enemy; nor his servants. Never underestimate their cunning, but have faith that you can overcome it."

Severus mentally scoffed, but he could not deny that having his own strategy confirmed was comforting. He let the Nazgul's guard-orc accompany him down into the black depths of the haunted tower once again, and entered into the cruel chamber where he resided. The Witch-King was waiting for him, robed this time, his face hidden, and he approached Severus as he entered.

"Severus. You come at last. Let us begin; first you must be armed. Sorcery alone makes a poor weapon." Severus did not scoff, both out of fear and because long months deprived of a wand had made him come appreciate muggle weaponry. "What weapon do you favor, oh mighty Severus?" the Nazgul asked.

"Do not tell him you are untrained." Galadriel whispered into his mind.

"I see thousands of years of life have given you a fantastic amount of wisdom," Severus thought snidely.

"A sword will suit you best, though a spear would not be a poor choice. Know that the Enemy gives no gifts without some cause." Severus refrained from another sarcastic remark.

"A sword," Severus said, remembering the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Very well," said Angmar. "You shall be armed when you leave; a fine enough blade for so mighty a warrior, I hope."

Severus scoffed inwardly, but Galadriel made no comment. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I will teach you to use your ring, so that you may serve Sauron fully." Severus raised an eyebrow.

"How would you know how to use it?" he asked innocently. The Nazgul hissed darkly.

"I have a magic of my own. Do not presume to question me again; I am Lord and you servant."

"I apologize, my Lord," Severus said respectfully. The Nazgul seemed placated.

The Rings of Power specialized in indirect magic. Direct spells such as curses and charms were unheard of. The Witch King trained him in what he called Words of Command, through which he could perform simple but powerful charms on objects and on people of weak will. The ring magnified his own power greatly, but limited his ability to perform more precise, direct magic. He did not deliberately hold back, but he only demonstrated the commands given to him by the Nazgul, which were to be uttered in an ancient tongue that was no longer spoken in Middle-Earth.

"Take this block and destroy it," the Nazgul said as the Orc servant dragged a surprisingly large block into the dim room. Severus focused, allowing his magic to flow into the ring. His fingers channeled the magic rather than the point of his want, so with a flick of his right hand he sent the spell forward. There was no beam of light, but the block promptly shattered with a loud crack and crumbled into dust. Severus was sorely tempted to try repairing the block, but it seemed that kind of magic was unheard of in Middle-Earth.

They practiced several other simple, basic charms of the nature before the Nazgul was satisfied that Severus had mastered the ring enough to be useful.

"You have learned well, Severus son of Tobias," the Nazgul said finally. "You may be able to withstand that which you seek should it come to battle. Use the ring often and freely, for only through much practice can you truly master it."

"Your praise is greatly appreciated, my Lord," Severus said respectfully, noting the wraith's treacherous advice. He would need to avoid using the thing as much as possible.

"You will depart tomorrow for Edoras as we planned, along with a small company; forty Mordor Uruk, ten Wargs, ten Isenguard Uruk-hai, and Gimlan to command them. The Mouth has generously agreed to send two Olog-hai to accompany you as well. He has requested a final audience. Raakhuga will take you to him presently."

"As you wish, my Lord," Severus said respectfully. He exited the horrible chamber with no small amount of relief. The ring enabled him to avoid the effects of the Black Breath, but the presence of the Nazgul was terrifying even without the curse it carried.

The Orc, Raakhuga, led Severus silently down to the ground floor once again. Severus surreptitiously removed his ring as soon as possible. The Mouth waited seated on his supremely gruesome horse.

"Severus, it is good to see you again. I regret that you have chosen to serve the ghost-man before myself," he said with a smile that Severus assumed meant he was not seriously put out.

"I wanted to begin as soon as possible." The Mouth gave him a skeptical look.

"You still do not truly wish to serve, I see. I hope in time you will understand Lord Sauron's great need."

"I am eager to leave this place, and Mordor did not seem like it would be any better."

The Mouth let out a mirthful laugh. "Some honesty at last. I will admit that Gorgoroth is not a pleasant place to stay, and I have no desire to leave even gloomy Lugtau for it once again. I have gifts for you; one from our Master, and one from myself."

"Lord Sauron is very generous," Severus said.

"Ever polite and respectful when it matters most, Severus. You will serve long with such an attitude. Come. We will see them now."

The Mouth led Severus out of the grand entrance doors and down into the Amon Lanc, the treeless hill on which the fortress rested. The Orcs were still camped all around, but a long, empty pathway stretched between them. Severus followed as the Mouth's horse moved at a slow trot down it.

"Lord Angmar tells me of a treacherous Uruk who attacked you as you fled. Only natural that you should do so; I have chosen to give you justice. Do you wish it?"

Severus did not hesitate. "Yes."

The Mouth laughed at this. "Ah, I see that old prejudice holds true in you. A Man you fear to see chastised, but an Uruk not so?"

"He shot me. Obviously I want to see him punished." The Mouth grinned widely.

"Good! It is only natural, though it was foolish of you to flee as you did."

"What makes you think I fled?" Severus asked.

"I do not know, friend," the Mouth said casually. "I was not there." Severus cursed inwardly. Either the Mouth did not know of his animagus form, or was shrewd enough to not reveal that he did. Angmar would surely want to hold on to such a piece of leverage, and Severus could not even be sure that the Nazgul had seen him transform, though he would have to assume he had.

They came to a large fire pit that was blazing in the middle of the pathway. Orcs had crowded around in anticipation, but at the approach of the Mouth they quieted instantly. Severus was impressed that a mere mortal Man could generate such an effect on them, a clear demonstration of the power that Sauron projected even while thousands of miles away.

Takhbork was shackled to a post just outside the blaze. Dargum and the other three Orcs that had taken Severus to Dol Guldur stood beside him. They were obviously engaged in some kind of mockery by the wide, malicious grins they held which were reflected by the look of fear and hatred on the small Orc's face.

"You!" the Orc snarled, his eye finding Severus. "Elf-Lover! He's an enemy, I tell you! A spy of Gondor! I'm sure of it! A shape-shifter!"

Severus pales at that, but the Mouth cut him off. "Be silent, _snaga_. We've already heard all that you have to say. You assailed an ally of our Master, and for that you shall pay."

"No! Listen!" the Orc cried out. "He's a traitor! He tried to flee! He can turn into a beast." The Mouth began to laugh. Severus slipped on his ring as Dargum growled nastily at his former subordinate.

"An animal? You little slug. He did not have his wand. He could transform into nothing."

"He transformed into a - a dog! I saw it!"

"A dog?" the Mouth asked incredulously. "There was no dog present, little Orc. Your lies will not avail you now."

Severus removed the ring as Dargum dragged his former comrade to his feet. "He tricked me! He put a spell on me! It wasn't a dog. It was a - a - a"

"Put him in the Bone-Breaker," the Mouth said, and a rapturous cheer rang out through the gathered Orcs. "We want to hear him squawk, don't we, lads?"

"Bone-Breaker! Bone-Breaker!" cried the Orcs. Severus watched numbly as they crowded in closer, their thousands of eyes narrowed in malicious anticipation, and for the first time he wished that the Nazgul was nearby. The Mouth's political authority seemed terribly inadequate while surrounded by thousands of Orcs mad with blood-lust.

"Do not tell me the entertainment bores you, master Severus," the Mouth asked, his tone almost teasing. "You have a long journey ahead, and a perilous end to it. I bid you enjoy yourself. Come, have some drink."

The Mouth passed Severus a deep cup full of some kind of beer-like liquid. Severus was no stranger to alcohol, and his ability to indulge in it in moderation had always given him a spiteful satisfaction when he considered his drunk of a father, but he deemed it unwise to indulge in the company of the assembled might of Mordor in Dol Guldur. He sipped it slowly, which was easy because it was terrible. He wondered if it was the same drink they served to the Orcs.

The Orcs seemed to take an absurd, fanatical delight as Takhbork was mercilessly tormented on a high platform above the fire, his agonized face clear for all to see. Severus wanted to enjoy it himself, but was unable to. The Orc might have been his enemy and a thorn in his side, but he had not been a coward or a fool. Takhbork had pegged Severus true from the beginning, and he could not help but feel a grudging respect for the Orc because of it. Severus could not help but imagine that it was himself up there instead. It very well could have been had he not played his cards just right with Sauron earlier.

The Mouth beckoned Severus to follow him up onto the torment platform when the Orcs seemed finally to have their fill. It was a wooden, rickety thing elevated high above the ground, with several gallows with trap doors below them and several gibbets beside. Several torture machines that looked evil enough idle were positioned at various points. The one that held Takhbork was a classic design; a long bed with shackles for each limb that four burly Orcs cranked apart with delighted glee.

"Mighty soldiers of Mordor, Isengard and Mirkwood, I hope you all have enjoyed this show," the Mouth hollered. Severus doubted his voice carried further than the first several dozen ranks, but the entire mass of them crowed in pleasure. "Do not thank me, though. Thank Severus, your newest Master."

The Orcs quieted instantly and eyed Severus wearily.

"What do you say, Severus? Mercy, or Death for the traitor?"

The chant of "Death, Death, Death," went out instantly as thousands of hideous faces clamored to get a better view of their sport. Takhbork himself seemed to have gone unconscious from shock, and hung limply from his shacked, the tension having been released.

The Mouth handed Severus a long, serrated dagger. "Do not be quick about it. The better the sport the more they will love you."

Severus, for all his less than stellar deeds in life, had never had the stomach for inflicting cruelty with his own hands, and the last thing he wanted to do was personally cut another person apart, even if it was a horribly deformed Orc who hated him and had shot him with an arrow. Instead he slipped on the ring, and was glad when Galadriel responded quickly.

"Rings of Power give their bearers great powers of persuasion," Galadriel whispered. "Let it guide you as you speak, but always beware." Severus opened his mind to the ring, and when he spoke his voice sounded different even to himself.

"I am _tark_ ," he said. "It is not my place to judge him. I leave that to you."

The Orcs began to chant loudly once again at this proclamation as the Mouth translated it for him into their own ugly language.

"Dushatarburz! Dushatarburz! Dushatarburz!" came the cry.

"They say, 'Dark Wizard'," the Mouth told him. "You have impressed them, it would seem."

Severus and the Mouth descended from the platform and Severus removed the ring once again. The Orcs let out a roar and began to close in on the platform, and Severus hurried away. He vaguely heard the Mouth following him, but he did not look back. He had had enough of Mordor and Orcs and their ceaseless maliciousness to last a lifetime. Even Mulciber would have found them intolerable. _Greyback_ would have been right at home.

"Cunningly played, friend, though I must question your intentions," the Mouth said. "Will you hesitate when Sauron asks you to kill, I wonder?"

Severus scoffed. "I will do whatever he commands me, and no more."

"That is not the attitude that he would desire."

"Take it up with the Nazgul," Severus said coldly. "I would like to get some sleep before I leave tomorrow."

"As you wish," the Mouth said, his own tone growing hard to match that of Severus. "I do think you were foolish to enter his service. The wraiths know nothing of mortal concerns. They are merely slaves, forever deprived of any will of their own."

"If that's what Sauron wants, then who are we to question?" The Mouth frowned at that, but nodded.

"You are correct, of course. Lord Sauron knows best."

Severus did not look back as he was led back into the Elf Tower. The Mouth bid him farewell before Gimlan began to lead him back to his chambers up the long spiral staircase.

Gimlan confirmed to Severus that he would accompany Severus on his mission to Moria. Severus suspected that Angmar and the Mouth had an alternative motive for the assignment, but he could not deny that the non-Orc company would be welcome, however inadequate it would be. The alcohol even allowed Severus to admit a key problem he had been struggling to address.

"I do not know how to use a sword," Severus admitted. Gimlan gaped at him. "I need you to train me - I assume you do know how?"

"I do," the man said. He gave Severus a look of deep disdain.

"I also need to learn to ride a horse better."

"You are not serious?" Severus wondered how much Gimlan's shock was genuine and how much was feigned to increase his humiliation.

"I'm deadly serious. You will teach me what I need to know and you'll keep silent about it. Do you understand?" Gimlan glared at Severus hatefully but acquiesced.

"As you wish, Engwar." Severus frowned. "Do not expect me to be kind about it. You are pathetic; it is a wonder you have survived so long."

"I did not ask your opinion, slave," Severus said snidely. "Maybe I ought to cut your tongue out; you won't need it to serve me."

Gimlan snorted. "You have not the guts, Elf-friend. You may fool the Master but you do not fool me."

Severus laughed. "You presume to know better than they do? Perhaps I should tell them this, and I won't need to get my hands dirty at all. You're right - I don't have the stomach, but I've always believed that what I can't see won't hurt me."

"You think the Orcs will side with you?" Severus fingered his ring and gave a smug smile.

"You're mine now, Gimlan. You'd best get used to it."

Severus slammed his chamber door shut in the other man's face. He slipped on the ring and called for Galadriel, but she did not come for several minutes. He spent the time eating his last meal, which consisted mostly of fruits from the Elf Garden and brown bread. It seemed that rations were tightening, because he was only given a piece of dry, salted meat. A way to entice him to leave rather than linger, he suspected.

"If you wish to be free of them, then you will lead them directly west to the Anduin. You can pass near Lothlorien. I have told Celeborn your tale; he will welcome you as a guest until your wand can be returned."

"Forgive me if I do not trust in the kindness of elves," Severus said coldly.

"Not all Elves are as Thranduil. I would have you as an ally, Severus Snape, not a rival. Gandalf made a grave error in his grief, but he will atone in time. You must trust in me, as I am willing to trust in you."

"What do you suggest is my next move, then?"

"Do what you have already planned. Your own cunning serves you well. The Enemy believes that they have won you, and that it is only a matter of time until the ring binds you. They do not understand the truth of your own nature."

"How do you know that?"

"Not all who taste Darkness are bound to it."

"Your confidence is... touching."

Severus removed his ring and enjoyed his last time sleeping in a proper bed for what he suspected would be a long time. Gimlan came earlier than Severus would have liked and woke him, and they began the final journey down the steps of the Elf Tower.

"How did you come to serve Lord Angmar?" Severus asked. Gimlan seemed torn between ignoring Severus and answering, but the man seemed to love the sound of his own voice.

"I had nowhere else to go. Once I killed my worthless father I was no longer welcome among the Elf-Friend scum. Not that I had any interest in _serving_ like they seemed to. Pathetic fools, running round trying to help fat old barkeeps and scrawny halflings."

"You were a Dunedain?" Severus asked. Aragorn had often spoke fondly of the halflings that lived across the Misty Mountains. Short, hairy footed humanoids that played little part in the affairs of Gondor, Mordor and the Elves and Dwarves.

"My father was, the worthless fool. A life of servitude, he told me, was the noblest of all."

"Yet you serve anyway..." Severus said mockingly.

"So I do," Gimlan said. "It is better to serve on the winning side, at least. A sentiment I am sure you can understand."

"Better to serve no-one," Severus said.

"Aye, but I do not possess mighty powers. The ring was denied to me."

"They offered it?" Severus asked.

"Of course they did. Think you so special, Engwar? They flattered me and said words of comfort and glory to me."

"Do you regret it?" Severus asked.

"What does it matter? We are both slaves of the Eye now. We are but Men, damned to serve our betters until death takes us. The curse of the Valar. Lord Sauron says that if we serve him well, Melkor may lift it one day, and Men will rule and the Uruk will finally be at peace."

"Do you believe any of that?" Gimlan snorted.

"Of course not. Sauron is no different than you and I, just mighty. He desires only that which he can get for himself, and we are but pawns in his great game."

"You could... defect," Severus said carefully. "Gondor or the Elves would surely forgive any transgression with all the information you could provide."

Gimlan seemed to consider for a long moment. "No, Severus. Far better to serve Sauron than them."

"Why?"

"Though I be a slave to the Eye, I am not a slave to any fool's false morality. In Mordor it is power that matters, and those too weak to seek it fall aside. Those who show the highest strength and might rise, and I am mightier than most."

Severus laughed mockingly at this. Voldemort without his wand; it was utterly pathetic to hear it. "Have you ever loved?"

"Love? What is love, but a delusion for the weak? In Mordor we do not lie and pretend. Only power matters. You should be glad of it, because you possess it in yourself." Severus could hear the man's envy and bitterness at that.

"We are both slaves in the end. What does power matter when you don't have any will?"

"You are a fool, Severus Snape, and your words betray your true sympathies. They will be your downfall, whether it be by Sauron or the Elves you hope will welcome you."

They came at last to the entrance hall of the tower. The great doors were once again opened, and Severus saw the Mouth, mounted, but he was flanked by two monstrous creatures. Their red eyes regarded Severus shrewdly when they found him, and Severus could feel the presence of Sauron in them. The Dark Lord controlled them far more directly than he did his Orcs or Nazgul, and he knew that their presence on his journey was as much to hinder him from any treachery as it was to aid him.

"Olog-hai - they do not speak the Common Tongue," the Mouth said, gesturing to his companions. "Only the language of Mordor. They will serve all commands without question."

"What he means," Gimlan whispered, "is that they'll gut you the second you even consider treason. I speak the language of Mordor, Snape, and I speak it well. Harken to that, Elf-Friend."

Severus ignored him as he approached the Mouth. The Man remained mounted, but he led another horse forward.

"A gift for thee from Sauron. Bred in Mordor for the Nazgul, it will serve you faithfully even in the presence of Wargs and Trolls."

Severus eyes the black horse wearily. He could sense a coldness in the animal's mind that was more terrifying than any actual malice or fear, and he approached it cautiously. He slipped on his ring once again, and he soon felt Galadriel's presence in his mind.

"They have broken its will," she told him. "It will serve you faithfully, though not lovingly. A well enough mount for a novice rider." Severus could not miss the disgust and horror in her voice.

"I thank you, and I thank Lord Sauron," Severus said respectfully as he wearily took the mount's reigns. His experiences with Gandalf along the Anduin had given him enough skill to mount the horse and match the Mouth's pace as they stepped out onto the balcony and began to descend the steps down into the Amon Lanc once again.

They rode a short distance until they came to a clearing in the Orc camps where the Witch-King waited, cloaked and armored. Severus dismounted wearily and approached the wraith, who stood before a Man who was holding a sword in his hand.

"Take up your sword, Severus son of Tobias," the Witch-King said. Severus looked down at the impressive blade. It was long and slender, with only one cutting edge, and it glowed a haunting blue. The Witch-King seemed to shrink from it, and the Orcs eyed it wearily.

"It is Orcrist, once wielded by Thorin the Dwarf traitor. We thought it appropriate a gift for you, because you hold his father's ring, and its mate belongs to Gandalf, who wronged you," said the Mouth, who took the sword from the other Man and held out the blade with its handle outward to Severus. "We would see you plunge it into Graybeard's heart one day."

Severus took the elegant blade in one hand, and the scabbard in another. Not wanting to show his inexperience with the weapon, he quickly sheathed it, and only missed the small opening once before clumsily buckling it to his waist.

"Orcs fear the weapon," the Mouth said in a quieter voice. "They will obey you much more readily if you present it to them. A Master's orders may not hold so true when he is many miles away, you see."

"An Elvish blade," the Nazgul said. "Let it be they who fear it in this Age. Long have we turned our enemies' weapons and fortresses against them. What say you, oh mighty Severus?"

"I am ever grateful for all that Lord Sauron gives me," Severus said respectfully. "I hope to use it to serve him well."

"I bid you luck then, Severus son of Tobias," the Mouth said, and he clapped Severus on the shoulder. "Sauron will reward you beyond all others when you return." He then turned to Gimlan. "Serve him well, slave."

Gimlan nodded respectfully, his hatred concealed well.

"Depart then, Severus," the Witch-King said grandly. He let out a shrieking cry that rent the air as Severus remounted, and suddenly the lines of nearby Orcs formed up and turned as one, and Severus beheld his little army for the first time. The Mordor Orcs closed up into rough ranks led by Dargum, while Narnûlubat formed his Uruk-hai into a neat line. Severus felt a shiver of fear pass through him as he saw the Wargs mingling around the edges. The Olog-hai hefted their large weapons, one a long, heavy spear of solid steel and the other a large sword, and turned to face Severus and Gimlan expectantly. Gimlan have a sharp command in what Severus recognized as the Black Speech, and as one the entire regiment of sixty-six soldiers and beasts began to move forward.

Severus looked down at the weapon he had been given. It was a beautiful sword, as beautiful and well-made at it was deadly, but it continued to glow brightly. What use was a weapon that gave his position away like a beacon?

"A treacherous gift," Galadriel whispered into his mind. "They robbed it from the tomb of Thorin, who is held in high esteem among all the free peoples. You will create foes whenever you wield it."

"Finally, you are of some actual use. What about the ring?"

"The ring of Thrain. I have suspected it from the beginning, but now it is confirmed for certain. You wield the Ring of Earth, mightiest of the Rings of Power save the Three and the One."

"What does that mean?"

"You will find it easiest to manipulate physical things, and to shape and change."

"You mean Transfiguration?"

"A fitting word to describe it, if my knowledge of the Common Tongue does not fail me."

"Is this ring... corrupted by Sauron?"

"It is. You must be careful that you do not let it overtake you. The will of Sauron is a part of it, and always it will try to twist your actions and commands to its own desires."

"What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Celeborn has sent out riders to meet you in secret as you approach Lothlorien. There you are to be welcomed and given freedom of the realm."

"Perhaps I don't want to go there?"

"I do not see any other path for you save continued enslavement to the Enemy. Already spies of the Woodland Realm and Gondor have seen you in service of him, and have brought their reports to Lord Thranduil and Lord Denethor. Thranduil has learned of your part in aiding the goblins and killing his men. He will not easily forgive such an act."

"What of my forgiveness?" Severus asked.

"Pride is more treacherous than any foe; trust me more than any in this. You and he will need to look past old hurts before the end." Severus scoffed loudly and pulled the ring from his finger as Gimlan have him an odd look and raised an eyebrow.

They marched and rode for long minutes past endless camps and tents, and Severus wondered how Thranduil and Galadriel could ever withstand such a force. He glanced one last time at Dol Guldur dwindling behind him, the Elf Tower still beautiful yet haunted and ruined and the Nazgul's tower glaring down in black menace, and a single solitary beam of sunlight falling through the endless darkness. His company made its way slowly down the slopes of the Amon Lanc and finally entered the canopy once again along the Sorcerer's Road.

Severus Snape, known as Engwar by the elves and Dushatarburz by the Orcs rode away from Dol Guldur and into the Mirkwood once again. The Dark Wizard went forth to do his Master's bidding.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 2: The Prisoner of Isengard**

They made easy time as they made their way along the Sorcerer's Road. They came to the edge of Mirkwood and passed through into the Brown Lands as evening twilight was fading. This barren expanse formed the east part of the vale of the Anduin stretching from Mirkwood in the north all the way down to the Ash Mountains that bordered the land of Mordor.

The halted briefly, ostensibly so that Gimlan and Severus could discuss which path they would take, but in reality so that Severus could engage in his first training session.

Gimlan was a surprisingly patient teacher despite the mutual dislike he and Severus shared. He made no effort to soften his blows, and Severus felt like a big, stupid git as the older, larger man danced around him as if it was nothing. Gimlan seemed to take great pride when Severus succeeded, and his corrections were always done with patience and firmness. Severus did not presume to think they were _bonding_ , but it did make things more tolerable.

"Move your feet!" Gimlan cried as he slammed to blunt edge of his blade into Severus' shoulder. Severus cried out, too tired to make some caustic remark in return. "Enough! I am done with you for now. You should hope we do not encounter any Rohirrim" Gimlan unfolded a map and held it against a large trunk so that Severus could see.

"Why do we not travel west to the Anduin directly?" Severus asked.

"The Elf-Witch lives there," Gimlan said, and he jabbed his finger at the small forest, Lorien, that lay between where the Sorcerer's Road left Mirkwood and the Eastern Gate of Moria lay. "We cannot go near that place. We do not have the strength to deal with a company of Elf scum if they choose to cause us trouble."

"Surely they will be more concerned with the forces marching on the Woodland Realm?" Severus asked. Gimlan frowned.

"Elves are not fools, whatever else they may be. Their eyes see far and they watch the lands far around their realm. They will get the measure of our numbers and take the opportunity it presents" Gimlan pointed further to the southwest of Lorien. "We must avoid passing near Isengard. Saruman is not fully aware of what we intend." Gimlan gave a meaningful glance toward the Isengard Orcs.

Severus considered his options that night as he tossed on his thin blanket under the stars. The dying fire beside him did little to dull the chill wind, but he found it difficult to sleep after so many nights in the comfort of a real bed. He put on the ring, but Galadriel was several minutes in answering.

"You must be careful. You are too far to make the journey without being overtaken. You will need to find a way to flee in secret."

"What about Saruman? Surely he has some plan for me too?" Severus knew that Sauron hoped to keep him and the treacherous wizard fighting over Rohan. Keep two potential rivals distracted, and destroy a third rival in the process.

"Saruman's designs are unclear to us. We trusted him fully. Let him be a lesson, Severus, in what happens when one succumbs to the power of the Ring."

"Indeed? Perhaps it's you who should take the lesson," Severus replied snidely. Galadriel was already gone.

They made good time through the Brown Lands. The Olog warriors' massive tree-like legs left thick, deep prints in the softer mud as they lumbered along. The Misty Mountains were faint, short shadows to the west. Severus was glad that for the barrenness of the land, but Orcs grumbled at the lack of forage. Severus did not need to ask why they grumbled so loudly despite ample supplies of dried meat.

The different racial groups tended to group together. The Ologs were never far from Severus and Gimlan, who were generally a good distance back from the Mordor-Orcs and their wild steeds, and the big, massive Isengard Orcs with their heavy armor. The Mordor Orcs' Wargs darted about restlessly, often snapping at each other or their rider and frequently engaging in scuffles that resulted in to angry Orcs on foot beside them.

It was a moonless night two days after their departure from Mirkwood that Dargum rode up beside Severus' black horse. He could feel the faintest shudder pass through his horse at the presence of the Orc's harshly panting wolf. Severus remembered sharp jaws closing in on his throat, and suppressed a sudden desire to grip his wand. Instead he felt cold silver, and the Dwarven ring.

"Ah, Snape. Seems you made the right choice after all." Severus stared down at the Orc's sallow face. The Orc's face was curved into a wicked grin. "Clever trick that was you pulled, Wizard."

"I must... apologize." Severus said coolly. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise..

"Nothing to it, mate," the Orc said. "I'd have done the same myself. Orders are orders, right?"

"Right."

"...and if I might have seen something a little... out of the ordinary... who's to say, right?" Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously, and he gripped the ring tighter. The Orc gave him an insolent glare in return. Severus considered his reply for a long moment.

"I too happen to have a long memory," he said quietly. The Orc's eyes narrowed shrewdly before he gave an imperceptible nod. "I won't forget those who... make sensible decisions."

"Forget what?" Gimlan asked mildly. Severus heard the faint thudding of hooves and forced himself not to look up.

"See that you don't," the Orc snarled nastily before turning to glare at Gimlan. "You're going to regret working with that snake." The Orc turned, spat at the feet of Severus' horse as his steed let out a snarl, and rode away.

"Engwar the charming," Gimlan said mockingly. "I do hope you make a better impression on the Elves when you beg them for mercy."

Severus ignored him and spurred his horse forward. The quiet, meek creature still possessed the incredible strength and stamina of a well-bred war stallion, and it moved deftly and intelligently. Severus felt a mixture of pity and admiration for the creature every time his thoughts went to it.

They made camp as dawn began to turn to afternoon and the fortunate cloud cover they had experienced began to break up. The Mordor-Orc complaining was already intense, but it became impossible to ignore, and Gimlan ordered a halt.

"Come," Gimlan said. "We must tend to the horses." Severus followed the tall man as they approached a small patch of particularly healthy looking grass and the two horses began to graze. It turned out that Gimlan's order was more than a ruse, and they spent long moments tending to the animals.

"Pathetic creatures," Gimlan said as he staked the lead to the ground. "Yet even slaves must eat and rest."

"Are we so different?" Severus asked. Gimlan laughed as he pulled out his practice sword. Severus did the same.

"We are," Gimlan said. His eyes were narrowed as he regarded Severus shrewdly.

"Why is that?" Severus lunched toward the man, and brought the blade forward in a thrust. Gimlan stepped aside and brought his sword up and around toward Severus' head. Severus cried out as the flat struck him glancing as he tried to dodge.

"We can disobey when it suits us," Gimlan said. He brought sword around for another blow, but Severus was able to block it this time. "Our masters must allow us some small freedom, else we would be worthless entirely."

"Only so much freedom as it allows us to serve their needs," Severus said. He remembered Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort, and his time trying to serve two masters at once. It had served him well in the fortress of Barad-Dur, where he had been able to temper his natural, caustic nature and reason with the evil that lived there.

"What was it like?" Gimlan asked. "What was it like to see _him_?"

Severus danced away from the taller man's next blow, dark eyes narrowed. "I don't understand -"

"Even in Dol Guldur rumors circulate, Severus," Gimlan said. His grey eyes were filled with earnest curiosity. "That fool cannot keep a secret. What was it like?"

Severus remembered his youth. Whispered questions in the Slytherin Common Room. Rumors and secrets. He remembered asking the very same question of Lucius long ago, and he remembered when Regulus Black asked it of him.

_"What was it like?"_

His infatuation with Lily had always been like a dull ache in his mind during his Hogwarts years, but even in spite of it his time in the ranks of Lord Voldemort was still one he remembered fondly. He had been somebody. He had meant something. He had been part of something bigger than himself. His biggest regret may have been joining Lord Voldemort, but his second greatest was joining Albus Dumbledore.

How much easier it would have been to just have kept serving Tom Riddle. To let go of his idiotic teenage infatuation, and dedicate his life to somebody else's goals.

He decided that he would answer Gimlan honestly. "It was like I was nothing. Not even a speck of dust compared to his power."

Gimlan raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?"

"There can be no challenging him. To even consider it would be folly." Gimlan laughed. Suddenly the man leaped forward and aimed his sword in a wide arc. Severus desperately attempted to dodge.

"He was defeated by a man," Gimlan said. "A mere mortal man, my own ancestor, defeated him." Severus very nearly fell prey to Gimlan's next blow at this information. "Even the Gods can be conquered, if one is cunning enough."

Severus's retort was cut off as Gimlan's sword connected painfully with Severus' shoulder.

"You must always be focused on the fight! Never let yourself be distracted!"

They changed the subject then, to discussing their next meal, but Severus could barely avoid the self-satisfied smirk from creeping across his face despite his heavy breathing and the sweat that covered him like a wet blanket. He had confirmed it. Gimlan's fatal weakness.

Gimlan wanted the ring.

Their journey was uneventful, and two days' camp later they reached the Anduin. The Misty Mountains faded completely from view. Severus found himself growing fonder of the cool August air and the clear starry skies at night. The moon began to grow again, and the Mordor Orcs complained of it constantly. The Isengard Orcs, for their part, were quick to suggest daytime marches to shut them up.

Severus looked down beside his horse, almost invisible in the nighttime darkness, to see Dargum looking up at him cautiously. Gimlan just so happened to be away at that moment. Severus looked at the Orc expectantly.

"Isn't it beautiful?" the Orc asked, gesturing with a overlong arm toward the land on the far side of the Anduin. "Rohan! Land of the horselords."

"It's very impressive," Severus agreed sarcastically. The far side of the river looked as barren and empty as the near side.

"Bosses say we can't forage," the Orc said bluntly. "Say we need to keep a low profile."

"I believe that would be a prudent course of action," Severus said.

"Might be," said the Orc. "Might be we might see our way to some more of that gratitude if accommodations could be made."

"That would depend on the accommodations," Severus said quietly. Dargum nodded.

"Told the boys you'd see reason. We'll be discrete - no torture or nothing. Just take what we need, right quick, right out. Should reach the village in two days' march."

"I want no part in this," Severus said quietly. "I will not do this."

Dargum nodded. "No need to do anything. Just don't interfere."

"Why did you tell me, then?" Severus asked, unable to hide the exasperation in his voice. Dargum's eye's narrowed suddenly into slits and his face turned to rage.

"The Bosses won't buy your act much longer, _tark_ ," the Orc sneered. His mount gave a loud snarl.

"You are just one of the lads, aren't you, Severus?" Gimlan asked mockingly. Severus twisted his expression into a familiar sneer as they watched the Orc retreat.

"You presume I have any interest in associating with such vermin," Severus said coolly. Gimlan laughed.

"I rather think they are exactly your sort." Gimlan gave a quiet chuckle at his own wit before he left Severus again. Severus felt no need to make any reply.

Severus had sat by and watched many atrocities unfold in his lifetime. He still remembered the look on Charity Burbage's face as the Dark Lord had cast the Killing Curse. That same expression frozen in place as Nagini wrapped her jaws around the corpse and consumed it whole.

Severus placed the ring on his finger after some deliberation. It felt like he was repeating his time with Dumbledore as he prepared to seek Galadriel's advice, but he decided in the end that it was just that. He had no obligation to obey her. Severus kept the ring on for over an hour, but she never entered his mind, and he took it off again. Gimlan, ever observant, seemed to notice this.

"It can't be the Dark Lord," he said, startling Severus. "You appear far to calm - irritated almost. Certainly not the expression one would have after conversing with _him_. Most curious..."

"Perhaps such things are beyond the comprehension of mere mortals such as yourself," Severus replied. Gimlan let out a sudden laugh.

"I will remember that tonight while we spar," he said, and he gave Severus a feral grin.

Severus found that he could not sleep that night despite being tired and exhausted. His secret duels with Gimlan left little time for sleep as it was, but he tossed and turned on the hard ground, separated from the dirt by only a thin sheet, as he pondered what the Orcs were planning.

He could stand by and do nothing. It would be the prudent choice. He had done it many times before in his past life. He could even profit from it. What were a bunch of useless, weak peasants and villagers from an alien land to him? Yet he couldn't pretend that his second life in this world was not remarkable. For all his trials and tribulations, they still paled in comparison to the misery and despair of that dark year, alone and despised, as Hogwarts' hated headmaster.

What would Lily think?

Why should he care?

Maybe he should do the right thing for himself, not for some teenage fancy who had abandoned him for a swine of a man. He could at least put Gimlan in his smug place.

Severus got no sleep that night, his ring always in his fingers as he felt the smooth silver. It was not like natural silver. It was not cool to the touch, and it did not warm when he handled it.

* * *

Severus felt a strange tingling in his thin fingers as he spoke the incantation for the charm. The power of the ring was incredible. A wand only channeled magic, but the ring seemed to force it out in a torrent of power. The charm he preformed would be impossible even for Lord Voldemort with a mere wand - perhaps even the fabled Eldar Wand. The familiar feeling of his entire body being ripped apart made him want to cry out, but he had taken Polyjuice many times in the past. The ground stood almost a foot lower, his stubble had disappeared, and his dark hair was long and fine rather than greasy and matted.

He would need to keep the ring on for the duration. He felt no presence from either Sauron or Galadriel, and he was glad for both their absences. He mounted the pale horse, which gave him a snort of annoyance. Evidently the creature's instincts and companionship with the elf were strong enough for it to see through the illusion. Severus felt little pity for either the horse or the now foot-bound elf.

_"Severus Snape?" the elf asked, its bright electric eyes focused on Severus rather uncomfortably as Severus returned toward the camp. Elven horses seemed to make no sound as they moved and he had not heard the animal approach as he returned to the camp._

_"Perhaps..." Severus replied uneasily. The elf looked at him grimly._

_"A message from Lord Celeborn - you must not enter the Golden Wood." This got Severus' attention._

_"Why would that be?" he asked cautiously._

_"_ __You carry the key to its destruction_ ," the elf said cryptically. "You were overheard by another."_

_Severus looked at the elf, who looked back at him wearily. He understood the riddles well enough, but the Elf clearly did not. "You must seek the prisoner of Isengard for what is yours."  
_

Severus had been wroth. The Elf did not seem to expect his reaction, which was for the best. He really did not want to kill the messenger, but the news of Galadriel's betrayal had enraged him more than anything in a long while. It ranked up among his discovery of Potter snooping in his Pensieve. Severus felt that the Elf got off rather easy. If he was going to deal with Saruman for Galadriel and all the precious 'free peoples of Middle Earth', then he was going to do it with their help whether they wanted to offer it or not.

Severus examined the Elf's sword cautiously. It was bulkier and heavier than Orcrist, and it was clear that the elven arts had not improved with time.

Whatever its faults it was far superior to Gimlan's bulky, longsword.

_"Your sword is every bit as temperamental as a horse," Gimlan said as they circled each other once again. Severus had been surprised by his own improvement. He still was bested by the old warrior nine out of ten times, but his stamina and his ability to react quickly had improved greatly. "Steel is strong. Your elven sword is stronger, but even the strongest metal will fail if it is not cared for."_

_Severus jabbed his sword downward, thrusting the point at Gimlan's unprotected belly. The older man quickly danced aside and sent his own blade toward Severus' shoulder. Severus was unable to block in time, and he snarled in frustration. He was sweating profusely, and his long hair was like a long, wet curtain._

_"You really ought to cut it," Gimlan said mockingly. "It's hideous at any rate. Your face may not be much to look at but it's better than that hair -"_

_Severus snarled and swung wildly. Gimlan lazily blocked the blow and with a hard smash against the side of Severus' head he found himself on his knees._

_Severus spat blood as Gimlan looked down at him smugly. The older man did not bother to reproach him. Severus knew that his anger had made him fail. For all his lecturing to Potter and his students over the years, Severus had always known that his disdain towards those that let their temper rule them was directed primarily inward._

The village was small for a muggle area, only the size of Hogsmeade, and likely only that because it contained a ferry that led across the Anduin from Rohan. Perhaps there was some mine nearby, but Severus did not particularly know or care. He made his way to the inn, a large, one-story wooden building with several stone chimneys. Several villagers gawked as Severus stalked past them and into the crowded bar area.

The innkeeper looked up at Severus in clear awe. He was a short, scruffy looking man with a long red beard and a smooth, bald head. Short was rather unfair, Severus supposed, since most of the other villagers were similarly short. Perhaps these were the halflings that Aragorn had spoken of, but Severus doubted it.

Posing as an elf was the most unusual experience of Severus long, miserable existence. He had used Polyjuice in the past, but never to pose as anybody with such extraordinary presence. It was an eyeopening experience to say the least, and he found it hard to avoid noticing the several nearby women, many mere girls, eying him with wide eyes, a sea of blue and brown admiration.

"Well?" Severus asked harshly. The Elf's clear, gentle voice doing little to dissipate the contempt and disdain that colored most of Severus' words.

"Sorry!" grunted the older man, his face turning crimson. Severus realized that the Men would be intimidated by the supposed immortal, unworldly beautiful being, but sympathy was not in his nature. "I just don't get many elves asking to be guests, you see."

"Obviously not," Severus said coolly. "Perhaps you would... get on with it?"

"Yes, yes, of course," the man said quickly, meekly, which only increased Severus contempt. What kind of man willingly allowed himself to behave in such a subservient manner?

Yet, for all his superiority and arrogance, was the humble innkeeper not more free than Severus had ever been? Severus pushed that thought from his mind.

Severus was led into a small, cozy room. He could feel the draft from outside, and the bed was rather uncomfortably with its straw stuffing jutting harshly against the fabric. It was still better than sleeping among a camp of reeking Orcs in the rain with Gimlan and his longsword sleeping a mere stab away. He spared a glance through the window, toward where the Anduin ran and the town's harbor lay. He tried to seek out the fires of his Orc camp, but he saw nothing.

The glamor soon faded as the innkeeper served Severus his supper. He ate the thin soup slowly. It was poorer fare than the dried meat that was plentiful among the Orcs, but Severus had never been a big eater anyway.

Dusk came far more quickly than Severus would have liked.

The Orcs came soon after dusk approached. Severus was disappointed in their poor tactics. Nobody expected an Orc raid during the day, so that was exactly how the they could have maintained the maximum element of surprise and terror. That, and Severus could have gotten a good night's sleep.

A single hair from Dargum's filthy body was all it took. The ring around Severus' finger heated up, and he pulled his sword out. Using magic would clearly out him as himself, so he would have to rely on the Elf messenger's blade and Gimlan's very much incomplete training. It was narrow and slender and lighter than any steel weapon had any right to be, and Severus feared it might break in combat.

Severus sword had begun to glow with its own pale light. It was not nearly so bright as Orcrist, but it was enough. He could hear the snarling of Wargs and the cries of fear from trapped villagers. He whispered the glamor incantation as he grasped the second and final elven hair that he had forcibly taken from the messenger, and felt his body change with the familiar feeling of Polyjuice potion as his Ring of Power thrummed.

"M'lord!" the innkeeper cried pathetically as Severus stalked past him. "Orcs have come! Please! Please help us!"

"I suppose it was too much to ask for a quiet night's sleep?" Severus snarled venomously, taking some pleasure at watching the man cringe back.

"We - we are no warriors, my Lord!" he cried.

"It seems the race of Men is good for little of anything, then," Severus said. The old man's cheeks turned crimson.

"Please, my Lord!" cried another voice. "You must help us!"

Severus whirled around, his long, dark robes rippling with him, to face the younger voice. It seemed that being an elf made him somewhat less unapproachable and intimidating compared to being himself, but the effect was still there. Severus let out a laugh full of derision.

"We will fight with you!" said the second boy. This one was admittedly taller and older looking than the boy who had addressed Severus, but still seemed no more of a warrior. Severus wanted to tell the fool boys to flee, but long experience with Gryffindor house had taught him that some were too thickheaded to heed such reasoned advice. Instead he would need to utilize them constructively.

"You boys need to get out of here," the innkeeper said quietly. "They're riding Wargs - they'll chew you up quicker'n'you can lift that thing."

Severus shared the innkeepers's frustration at their stubborn gazes. "They can help." Their eager faces filled Severus with a deep disdain, but he forced himself to adopt a look of encouragement.

Severus stepped out of the inn into a scene of chaos. The Orcs seemed to be focused on the commercial section of the town near where the harbor was, and as Dargum had promised were less interested in attacking the villagers. Smoke rose in torrents from burning buildings as the Wargs howled loudly.

"You three will help everyone flee to the south. Do not go north. You must go south. Gather everyone and keep them safe." Three faces look up at him skeptically. "Do you want to allow the people you love to die so you can be a fool?" he barked. Chastened, the boys seemed to decide that his advice was for the best. Severus let out an inward sight of relief. Not so Gryffindor as Potter after all.

Severus had no intention of saving the villagers' livelihood either. The supplies _would_ be useful for the Orcs, especially if they were to help him mutiny against Gimlan. Severus made his way instead stealthily behind the boys. He gave them a nod of what he hoped was encouragement as they herded a group of others, spears held shakily but bravely. Severus scanned the village, silently admiring the Elf's brilliant eyesight. It was as if he was seeing the world in colors and in detail he did not know existed.

The first Warg lunged, an Orc rider who Severus only vaguely recognized letting out a venomous war-cry as slavering jaws approached. Severus swished his index finger in a slashing motion and saw blood spurt from the beast's neck as its lunge was cut short. Severus stepped aside and plunged his sword into the general area quickly before jumping backward. The villagers let out a shriek and Severus desperately hoped that the three youths kept them under control.

The Orc was quick, it's sallow eyes wide with surprise only momentarily before it leaped to its feet, its serrated short blade out. They circled a moment before the Orc's eyes widened again.

"Golog!" it snarled, and a shouted litany of Black Speech emerged as it desperately tried to warn the others, but none were nearby Severus' curse opened its throat mid-speech, and he stuck it with his blade in the same area as it tumbled to the ground.

Two more Wargs followed on the first's heels an instant later, pale, glowing eyes fixing on Severus instantly. Severus dispatched the first with a curse, but the second closed the distance too fast. Severus was only able to swat it with the blunt of his blade before it was on him, rank breath and over-sized jaws snapping at his neck. Severus writhed just out of its bite, his slender elven body giving him extraordinary agility and flexibility.

He sank his blade deep into the wolf's belly, and was rewarded with a piteous cry of agony as the beast withdrew. The Wark took his blade with it, but left its Orc rider behind. Kraibag looked at Severus uncomprehendingly before fear took over. Severus swept his blade toward the Orc, but was blocked.

It was fortunate he was, because the blow of the blades meeting allowed him to spot Anghash. The large Orc had evidently survived his Warg after all, and his heavy axe came down on Severus. He desperately intercepted it with his blade, and to his surprise the thin elven weapon and the thin elven body that held it had strength enough to turn the blow.

Anghash let out a vicious snarl as Severus backed away from the two Orcs wearily. "What's a filthy Golug doing here?" he asked his partner in their ugly speech.

"Dunno," Kraibag said. "We can take it though." Anghash looked skeptical, but they seemed to decide it was worth a try. Severus remained in his guarded stance.

The big Orc attacked first, his large, heavy axe coming down toward Severus' head as Severus ducked away and sent a silent tripping hex at the smaller one. Kraibag stumbled and sprawled to the ground as Anghash turned his axe and hefted it toward Severus again. Severus brought his thin, elven blade up fully expecting it to shatter and praying that his accidental magic would protect him.

The blade slammed against the handle of the Ace, and Severus' hands, one holding the pommel and the other the flat of his blade, felt a jolt of pain as his arms were pressed back. The heavy wooden handle splintered as the axe-head flung downward and landed with a thud only inches from Severus' face. Anghash stumbled clumsily to ground on top of Severus and rolled away. Winded and aching, Severus scrambled to his feet on graceful elven legs, still admiring the supernatural agility his new body gave him, and turned to face Kraibag.

The smaller Orc was less agile than his bigger companion, and a poorer fighter for it. Severus, a poor fighter himself, saw an easy opening, and his sword thrust forward. He saw the Orc's eyes widen in surprise as blood began to flow from his neck. Severus almost felt pity for the Orc as it stumbled to the ground with a gurgling cry.

Anghash was on his feet again. Severus thought he could almost see grief in the Orc's eyes, but it was quickly hidden by blind rage as the big Orc brought the sword from the first Orc Severus had killed around in a wild, sweeping cut. Severus was too far away, and danced away from the blow. Angash took the opportunity to retreat several steps. Severus advanced coldly as he heard the howling of the remaining Wargs all around him.

"You filthy elven shit," the Orc snarled. "We're going to gut you and hang you out to dry with the rest of your precious tark!"

Severus gave a sneer in return as he advanced forward. The Orc's bravado was betrayed for the bluster it was as Anghash retreated again. Severus prepared for the killing bow, but his keen elf ears heard the surprisingly gentle thud of approaching paws attached to massive legs, and a low, harsh breathing.

The Warg's eyes had time to widen as Severus leaped aside. He brought his sword into it, but it was a clumsy strike betraying his novice abilities with the blade. He swept the finger of ringed hand and a slashing curse finished the beast. It slumped to the ground. The rider, who Severus quickly recognized as Dargum, leaped surprisingly cleanly off his dying mount and turned to face Severus with a loud, Orcish snarl of his own.

"What is this Golug doing still standing?" the Orc commanded demanded of his subordinate. "You maggots couldn't take down one stinking Elf scum?"

Anghash gave a snarl of outrage as he rapidly assumed a ready position and tried to pretend that he had not strongly considered fleeing a moment before.

An Orc is only as loyal as his boss is close.

"Well how about you have a go, boss?" Anghash asked. Dargum glared at him, but his subordinate's near brush with death seemed to have made him bolder. "Go on, show us how it's done."

The Orcs let out a series of grunts and snarls at each other. Severus allowed himself to smirk. He needed Dargum alive. The Orc was his only possible ally in the band. He needed to convince them to flee rather than die out of pride and anger.

His plans were cut short as three more Wargs crept up behind the two Orcs, all mounted by Mordor Orcs loaded down with plunder and bearing long, sharp spears which they pointedly faced toward Severus. His smirk slid from his face.

"Not so confident now, is he?" Dargum asked mildly. The Elf's ears seemed to find Black Speech physically unpleasant, and it made listening to the Orcs' words difficult.

From behind Severus came a shriek of despair. He whipped around rapidly, turning to the side as Gimlan told him with his foes always clear in his field of vision and out of attacking range. An older woman cried out in a strange language as the three younger boys from earlier approached, the crowd of villagers having apparently been shepherded out of danger.

Severus was no longer inclined to pity, however, and he needed to help, so with a curt nod he invited the boys to join him. He was a flash of fear from the ginger and the younger one, but the leader retained the infuriating look of blind determination that Severus had seen so often on that infernal Boy-Who-Lived's face. He hoped the little wretch died tragically. He even had messy dark hair, though he was much stockier than Potter had been. The older woman, who Severus surmised must be one of their mothers, looked at him desperately.

Severus grabbed the leader boy roughly by the cuff of his rough spun shirt, and whispered harshly in his ear. "You three attack the Orcs on foot - I will kill the wolves." The boy nodded unquestioningly, and barked Severus' instructions in their strange language.

Severus eyed the Orcs coolly. They stared down at him and the three boys with narrowed, contemptuous eyes. Dargum seemed to consider his options for a moment. The desire to rip the throats of the three boys clashed with the knowledge that it would be quickly followed by the icy agony of Elvish steel played out in the Orc commander's mind. In unison the Orcs let out a loud, bestial roar, and the Wargs howled loudly, and they jumped forward.

Only one of the boys flinched. Severus raised his blade. Their bluff called, the Orcs halted, and Dargum and Anghash leaped onto two of the three Wargs. The Orcs turned tail and fled north with a rush of frustrated snarls and thundering paws. Severus was glad for Gryffindor courage for the first time in his life

Severus turned toward the boys and the mother. He could see the destruction wreaked on the village, and he could see several bodies strewn about, but many more were emerging from their shops and houses, eyes wide and faces white. Severus brought his elven blade upward.

"Flee now," he said, amplifying his voice subtly. "Gather your belongings and flee. They will be back tomorrow night, and every night after."

Without a word Severus turned around and began to walk, following along the trampled path left by the Wargs. The villagers made no attempt to stay him as he left, and he slowly entered into darkness and moonlight as the flickering of flames died down. He made his away along for several minutes before there was a sudden blast of flame followed by howls and the faint cackling of Orcish voices, then silence reigned. Severus approached the burning structure, a grain storage shed, now a blackened husk with several dying flames. He passed through it and removed his ring.

"Good Elf!"

Severus whirled around, his sword ready, and saw that the mother from the village had followed him. He lowered his sword, his eyes narrowed. "Did I not tell you to flee?"

"I just... I wanted to thank you - you saved them - you -" Severus gave a growl of anger. Her pale eyes were wide as she looked up at him. The life of a poor villager had not been terribly kind to her, and despite being several years younger than he was her flaxen hair had already begun to gray. Severus wondered briefly if her husband had died in the attack, or any of her other children, but her lack of grief made him doubt it.

"Return to your kin," he said. It sounded like something an Elf would say. Her cheeks turned red, but then her eyes widened suddenly. Severus glanced downward briefly, and saw that his pale, grey elven robes had turned black. He felt himself shorten by several inches as the magic of the transformation left him. The woman let out a shriek as Severus grabbed her roughly.

"Be silent," he snarled. She closed her mouth, her eyes wide with fear and terror. Not so dashing a savior now, was he? Severus could not preform a memory charm with his ring. The device was far too blunt and powerful for such delicate work. He had only one option.

"Please!" the woman whined. Severus stared down at her, his black eyes full of contempt. He was tempted to go through with it. It was her own fault for being an idiotic fool.

"You will tell no one!" he said, his voice low and full of venom. He jabbed his finger at her. "No... one..." She looked up at him. "Do you understand?"

"Yes! Yes!" she cried, tears now streaming down her face. "Don't hurt me!"

Severus turned around and stepped outside into dark moonlight, the flames having burned out. He heard no sound of her retreat, but when he glanced behind him, she was gone. He removed the ring and seethed all the way back to the camp.


End file.
